The Blood Traitors
by Sunshine Dust
Summary: An older, wiser Harry Potter is now working for the Ministry of Magic as an Auror. His most recent case: a troublesome vigilante group called the Blood Traitors. Are they good... or evil?
1. Chapter 1 The Viewing Box

_Chapter One_

_The Viewing Box_

Thirty-seven-year-old Harry Potter, Auror and Ministry worker, stepped into a small room with no torches. There was no where to sit, only four walls and a door, reminding Harry strongly of those viewing booths that police stations had for watching interrogations. Which is exactly what it was, only a better magical kind. The wall directly across from the doorway was completely invisible to him from floor to ceiling. On the other hand, were he in the interrogation room, he would only see a completely blank wall that didn't look any different than the others. It was a useful charm that kept those being questioned from feeling like someone was spying on them.

Few people even knew the Viewing Box existed. He'd never really had to use the room before now, but a new case had been given to him and he was to watch a witness being questioned. He had to find out the man's connection with this new vigilante group calling themselves the Blood Traitors.

He closed the door behind him and stepped up to the viewing wall. Light from the other room poured in, lighting his face and glasses. Inside in a hard, wooden chair sat a lone man in his twenties – though it was difficult to tell his age through all of the soot and dirt smudged on his face. He had a wide mouth and long, dark eyes, and his hair was an unnatural shade of blood red, cut in a choppy style that made it perpetually messy. Despite his baggy clothes, Harry could tell he had a lean, athletic build. More than anything – though his violent colored hair stood out – Harry noticed that he looked exhausted. Too tired for one his age.

The only door to the interrogation room opened to emit a tall, handsome black-haired woman of bulky build. She wore heals and a skirt under her open robes, making her look like a very feminine, and surprisingly pretty, rugby player. Her name was Agape Eishorbgy and she was Harry's assistant, in a sense. Born in Cairo, Egypt and schooled at Hogwarts, she spoke superb English and was very talented. He knew he could rely on her to ask the right questions.

"Hello, Sir," Agape said in a clear voice, setting her sturdy frame gracefully into the chair opposite the man, her back facing Harry. "I would like to say this will be brief, but it will not," she told him. "So let us get started."

Her voice sounded like it was in the room with him, even though the were separated by the wall. Another useful invention of the Viewing Box: it was easy to listen to every little thing said, even the slightest shifts in a persons voice.

The man watched her placidly.

"Please state your name for the record," Agape instructed.

He tried unsuccessfully to hold back a cough, and cleared his throat before obliging: "My name is Alton Drake."

"Well, Mr. Drake, I realize you have said all of this before, but I will ask you to tell me again about what happened yesterday in London," she began. "But first the Department of Defense would like to know exactly why you left your secure location."

"My secure location?" he croaked in a raspy voice. "Are you kidding?"

"You are Alton Theodore Drake? The same Alton Drake that was kidnapped from the Crossroads Pub in Wantchester by an anti-Muggle organization and detained by them for two months in a dungeon cell?"

"If by 'anti-Muggle organization' you mean the Optimates and by 'detained' you mean tortured and mutated, then, yes, I'm that Alton Drake," he said.

Harry could see he was irritated, as anyone would be, but he barely seemed to have the energy to to be annoyed. He was sitting in a slump in his chair as if it was difficult to sit up. Well, to be more accurate, he looked ready to fall_ out_ of the chair.

Agape was unphased by his comment. "Then you know that you are under protection of the Ministry for your own safety?" she said smoothly. "Augustus Schmitt informed me that he went over the policies with you himself."

"He did."

"Then, you know that you are under certain restrictions regarding where you go and when. You need to ask the Ministry for assistance if you want to leave the safety of the Bireley residence," Agape chided mildly. "That's just for future reference, Mr. Drake."

"I won't be needing it," Drake said. "I don't want the Ministry's protection anymore."

"Apparently." Agape looked down at her notes before continuing. "Right then. Lets get back on topic so that you and I can leave sooner.

"Please tell me why you where in London yesterday." Her pen was poised to write when he began.

He cleared his throat again. It sounded like there was a lot of debris to get rid of. Agape conjured a glass of water for him and he took it gratefully.

"I was there with some friends of mine," he said. "We where just looking for a place to eat. So we went to the Walnut Café – "

"Who were these friends?" Agape interrupted.

Drake paused and took a deep breath. Harry thought it wasn't as much a sigh as a cover for him to think of some names... or maybe whether or not o lie.

"Logan Bireley and Ferris Thorpe," he said, his pause almost imperceptible.

Agape wrote down the names. "Continue. You said you went into the Walnut Café?"

"Yeah. We were just eating, when we heard the explosion. We were all blasted out of our seats."

"Is that how you were injured?"

"Some of it."

"What next?"

"Well, everyone was screaming, and people were hurt, but I saw who the attackers were. So we went to stop them."

"By yourselves? That's very dangerous," Agape commented.

"Yeah," Drake said dismissively. "But we were pissed. It's not like we bloody did a lot of good. Other people were there fighting them too."

Agape interrupted him again: "That's not what I heard. Someone told me you and another man stood in front of a foreign woman and battled three Optimates to protect her."

Drake shrugged. "Must have been someone else."

"Who was the other man? Mr. Bireley?"

"I just told you it wasn't us."

"It was you, Mr. Drake," Agape told him firmly. "The woman identified you to us. She even knew your first name. She said you did a bad job in protecting her, but she seemed in pretty good shape to me. So who was the other man?"

Drake hesitated and watched her carefully. Finally he said, "Thorpe. But neither of us want our names printed on anything public so don't tell the papers or anyone."

Good cover up, thought Harry. This man was definitely part of the Blood Traitors if he knew how to battle Optimates. The Optimates (Optimus in singular form) were like the new Death Eaters; the Neo. The only thing they lacked was Voldemort.

"That's fine," Agape said. "You mentioned other people fighting. Who were they? Did you recognize any of them?"

"I have no idea who they were," he answered. "Most of them were covered in dust like us. I guess they were this group the _Daily Prophet_'s been talking about recently."

"Do you know their name?"

"The Blood Traitors," Drake said impatiently. "Who else? The Order of the Phoenix doesn't exist anymore."

_You're wrong about that_, Harry thought. _We're still around._ Of course, not many people knew that these days.

Agape persisted with her questions. "So where was Mr. Bireley at that time?"

"I don't know. We got separated from him. Then I ended up getting knocked out by someone."

"And that's all you remember?"

"Pretty much," said Drake. "Afterward, I woke up in St. Mungo's and they sent me straight over here when they realized I was functioning well enough to be interrogated for five hours by ten different people. I must say, you're much more polite than that bloody Moore bloke."

Garrison Moore was Head of Investigations in the Department of Defense. Harry knew him pretty well – obviously – and Drake was right, he could be a real git sometimes.

"I would like to discuss one more thing with you, Mr. Drake, if you don't mind," said Agape, ignoring his last comment.

"I do."

"You had another person in your party. A woman. Who was she?"

"There was no one but me, Ferris, and Logan."

"She was a Muggle. Why was she in Diagon Alley with you?"

Drake watched her again without saying anything at first, then, "There was no one else with us."

"You didn't meet her there, perhaps, or – "

Suddenly the door opened and an old woman in prime robes entered with a Ministry worker.

"Sorry, Agape, I couldn't stop her," said the Ministry worker. "She's come for Drake."

"Well, she can't have him yet," Agape replied calmly.

Harry's brow furrowed. Who was this woman, Drake's legal guardian? He was in his twenties for Merlin's sake!

"Yes, I can, Miss Eishorbgy," said the old woman, pronouncing Agape's surname perfectly. "He's been here for over six hours."

Even Drake raised his eyebrows at this. "Hmm. Longer than I thought."

"Furthermore," the woman continued, "he was never fully looked over at St. Mungo's. He's still filthy and he's obviously exhausted. You had no right to take him in the first place, but you've certainly gotten all the information you're going to get from him." She looked at Drake and held out a hand. "Alton, let's go."

"Who are you?" Agape asked. "His solicitor? You have no right to take one of our witnesses away."

"I am Melencolia Snook. And you're absolutely correct," said the old woman. "But I have a medi-wizard here, that can." She stepped aside and called into the hallway, "Dr. Briefman, come see for yourself what sort of shape this young man is in."

A skinny man in white robes with a St. Mungo's name tag pinned to his chest peered into the room. "I'd rather take him straight back to the hospital and examine him," he said haughtily. "He looks in great need of a sleeping potion."

So they took Drake away.

Agape could do nothing. She looked at the blank wall as if begging Harry for assistance, but what could they do? They hadn't taken him here, so they had no idea he hadn't been seen to by a medi-wizard. Who was this Melencolia Snook, and why was Drake any of her concern? Harry took a deep breath. At least he had heard enough to convince him this man knew more about the Blood Traitors than he was saying. He would definitely be someone to look for later on.


	2. Chapter 2 Info

_Chapter Two_

_Info_

Harry's brisk walk down the hall portrayed his irritation. Even long limbed Agape had difficulty keeping up.

"That woman must be working with them," he said to his assistant. He really considered her more of a partner, who did more investigating than grunt work.

"What was her name? Melendia Snook?" Agape asked, looking down at her notes as if expecting to find the name written somewhere.

"No," said Harry, "It was Melencolia Snook."

"Sounds depressing."

"Find out everything you can on her – and Drake." They turned a corner around some cubicals. Harry gave a grim wave to a fellow Auror as he and Agape passed his office. "_And_ Thorpe and Bireley."

"I already have everything on Drake that the Ministry knows about," Agape told him.

Harry slowed slightly and glanced at her sideways. "All of it? But I only asked for that this morning when I found out he was the witness."

"And I got everything, just like you said."

As usual, he was impressed by her efficiency. "Good. So what do we know?"

Agape flipped trough her notes until she reached the information she had copied earlier. She read: "He is twenty-tree-years-old; he went to Hogwarts and was sorted into Hufflepuff – " (" – They even list what house he was in?") " – He has quite a record from McGonagall. Mostly about blowing things up with firecrackers. He graduated and got serving jobs at two separate restaurants – one Muggle, the other in our world. He was warned by the Ministry for Apperating too close to his Muggle job. Then, the summer before last he was captured from The Crossroads Pub by the Optimates. No one knows how he got out of the dungeon cell, but that night he was first seen by Augustus Schmitt and one of Dumbledore's old friends."

Harry turned his head to look at her notes over her arm. "Which friend?"

"Someone named Creighton Squires."

They made it to Harry's office and closed the door behind them. "I don't know a Squires, but Dumbledore seemed to have an infinity of friends and associates. Look into this Squires fellow as well. Maybe he'd help us."

"You got it," Agape said.

1

The next day Agape already had two more folders in her hands, one full of information about Thorpe, the other about Bireley. She was in her chair holding them aloft as Harry walked into the his office that morning.

"What did you get?" Harry asked, taking the files and opening both on his desk before sitting down.

"Who do you want to know about first?" she inquired. "Vivian Gray's new songwriter, or a peaceful werewolf that lives in the middle of a forest?"

"Just because they don't sound that threatening doesn't mean they're harmless," Harry reminded her. "Thorpe writes songs for Vivian Gray? As in the growing super-star?"

"Yes. Well, only two so far. Apparently , they went to school together. He graduated only last year," she said. "The summer before last – the same summer Drake disappeared – he was attacked by two Optimates, who he and his father got away from and turned in to the Ministry."

Harry was impressed. Young Ferris already sounded experienced in fighting dark wizards. "How did they escape?" he asked. Trying to find that page of Thorpe's file.

Agape beat him to it. "The two Optimates were a married couple and they brought their kid along to use as a ploy. Well, they got distracted when the boy ran off, and the Thorpes got away, found the kid, then turned him in to the Ministry for safekeeping."

"That was Ferris Thorpe?" Harry said incredulously. "I heard about that. I even saw him. He was a blond kid. He still had the marks on his mouth from where the Optimates had sewn his lips together."

"That they did," Agape continued. "They also used the Torture Curse on his father."

"Why were they targeted in the first place?"

"Because Mr. Thorpe, or rather, Dr. Titus Thorpe, happens to be the only Muggle in history to fight in a purely Magical battle." Harry knew where she was going and his head jerked up from the papers to look at her. "That's right, he fought in the 1997 battle, with you, against Voldemort."

"_Titus Thorpe_? Why didn't you mention him before? I had no idea they were the same Thorpes."

"So you've met Dr. Thorpe?" Agape asked.

"Only once formally," he told her. "His wife was my Mum's best friend before she died. In fact, Dr. Thorpe was the only medic on the scene when I was born!"

Agape raised and eyebrow. "You're kidding. Harry Potter was delivered by a Muggle doctor."

"Actually, he probably wasn't a doctor then. He would have been too young," Harry said. "Anyway, now I certainly see why the Optimates would want to target them. They were pretty perturbed to find out someone was fighting with a gun instead of a wand."

"I'm sure," Agape said. "Well, his son's record is a clean a his. Ferris Thorpe has almost no marks against him – unless you count a detention at Hogwarts when he was fifteen."

"Okay. What about this peaceful werewolf? Did you ask Lupin for his records?"

"Of course," said Agape, slightly indignant. "I wouldn't have been able to find out everything about werewolf if I didn't get his records from the head of Werewolf Registration."

When she didn't continue, he prompted, "And?"

Agape sighed. "He wouldn't give me anything. He said he would rather you come get the information yourself."

Harry sighed. "Never one to let me off easy, that one." He looked at his watch. "I don't suppose he specified a time?"

Twenty minutes later, Harry found himself sitting in the Werewolf Registration Office in the Being devision of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. This office was headed by none other than Remus J. Lupin. The only down side to sitting in this waiting room was that he was between a werewolf and a highly disgruntled vampire, who kept muttering oaths under his breath.

The werewolf on his other side looked pleasant enough. He looked over at Harry and gave him a nod in greeting. Harry nodded back and looked down at the file Agape had put in his hand again before he came. It was Bireley's, and it didn't say much about his recent life, except that he had been made a werewolf two years ago.

"You're Harry Potter, yes?" asked the werewolf.

Harry looked at him again and said, "I am."

The man smiled pleasantly. "The press would have said something if you'd suddenly become a werewolf, so I'm guessing you're here to see Remus," he said.

"Yeah. He wanted to see me," Harry answered.

"Need information?"

Harry saw that his eyes had traveled down to the file in his hands, so he closed it. "You could say that."

"I hope it's not about Neo Death Eater allies. I heard someone else came in last week to question Remus about a few individuals."

Harry gave him a good look then. He couldn't read his expression. The man was probably in his thirties, most likely younger than Harry, but aged due to the lycanthropy. He had a scruffy look: short, messy brown hair and an unshaven face. This didn't take away from his general good looks, however. He had dark, deep-set eyes above a pointed, if slightly aquiline nose, and a strong square jaw.

Realizing the man expected him to say something, Harry quickly said, "It's nothing to do with Neo allies. Just a person." He knew that the Blood Traitors were no friends to the Optimates.

"Hmm. Hope I don't know them if you're looking for them," said the man.

There was a pause that Harry hoped was the end of the conversation. But no.

"Why rely on personal records so often?" the man asked. "Why not ask the person you're looking for?"

"Records are a lot more honest," Harry automatically replied.

"Not necessarily." The man smiled in a way that Harry didn't like. It was a smile that suggested he knew far more about what Harry was after than he did.

2

Remus Lupin, fifty-seven, now ran everything in the ministry that had to do with werewolves and semi-humans. He was the Head of the Werewolf Registration Office.

After Dumbledore's death in Harry's sixth year, Lupin only seemed to get more determined to change the minds of his fellows – werewolves, of course. Still stationed underground for the struggling Order of the Phoenix, he managed to change at least one mind: that of a man named Quinlan Mankiw. Mankiw knew another werewolf that thought like Remus and all three men joined forces to gather more allies. They even found a few in other countries. Eventually they had enough to fight part of Voldemort's lycan followers. The Ministry couldn't ignore that – especially after Remus's pack had such success despite their small numbers.

When Remus applied for a job at the Ministry after the battle against Voldemort, they couldn't simply turn him away, though they would've love to. He had proven that werewolves didn't have to be dark creatures, that they could control the monster inside them. It also helped that the job Remus applied to had recently been vacated.

In the seventies and eighties, Remus had to report to this office every other month to be interrogated by Virgil Hunkamunk. Hunkamunk was a disgruntled man in a position he hated, because he despised 'half-breeds'. He was so terrible that James Potter, who worked as his assistant for a short while after graduation, yelled at Hunkamunk and quit after watching him chew Remus out for absolutely nothing.

Hunkamunk was replaced by his son, who ruled the dead end throne throughout the nineties with just as much loathing. He was fired in 1998 for losing his temper with a Vampire and ending up on the losing side of a very dangerous battle. Remus succeeded him and ended up reworking the entire branch of the Department. Now his office not only dealt with werewolves, but Vampires, hags, and even the occasional half-formed animagus.

But that was nineteen years ago. At present, he was talking to Sydney Ingram, a sixteen-year-old werewolf, who had recently decided to drop out of Beauxbatons. The girl had been bitten when she was only fourteen, and since she was bitten in Britain, Remus was the first person to explain to her how her life would be from that point on. He tried to give all the werewolf victims hope for the future, but Sydney seemed determined to jeopardize hers.

"Sydney, you can't possibly think this will fix things," he said to her. "You need to finish school. I know you only live in London for part of the year, and I have no say in what you do with your life in France, but I can't stand by and not say something about this."

The young girl looked down at her lap, her shoulder-length hair draping over half of her face. "I've already withdrawn from school," she said with finality. "I hate the people there. It's not like I plan to work for the ministry or anything. I don't need the seventh year."

"If it's the school, you can transfer to Hogwarts..."

She shook her head.

Remus frowned. "Why are you really quitting Beuaxbatons?"

She didn't answer.

"Sydney, if this is because of Celeste asking you to join the – "

"It was," she said, cutting him off. "But they wouldn't let me. Now they probably never will, what with this investigation the Ministry is doing."

"How did you know about that?" Remus asked, his frown deepening.

"Gus told us."

Remus didn't know what else to say. She wasn't going to change her mind anymore. It was too late for that. She was already too involved in the whole nasty business. So he decided to ask: "Will you be living in London permanently now? Away from your parents?"

"Yes. But you don't have to worry. I never could rely on them as much as I could myself," she admitted. "I'll be fine on my own."

"I know that," Remus said, smiling. "What I was more concerned about was who you would be meeting with every other month. However, since you're staying in the country, I suppose it will be me."

"Of course," Sydney said, smiling back. "Why do you think I stayed in the UK?"

3

The door to Lupin's office opened and a black-haired girl walked out. She took one look at Harry and turned her face toward her feet. The slight shake of her head that let her hair fall over her features was almost imperceptible. Her attempt to hide, however, was not. Where all werewolves this cryptic? The man that had spoken to Harry rose from his chair and joined her to leave.

"Harry," said Lupin's voice. "Please, come in." His door was still open and he waved Harry inside.

Harry walked into the office, which he had visited several times before, and closed the door behind him. He sat in the single chair in front of Remus's desk before asking, "How are you?"

"Fine. It's actually been a pretty peaceful day," Remus replied. He smiled and the lines around his mouth and eyes deepened. "How are Ginny and Kyla?"

"They're fine. Kyla told us she's going to come home for Christmas," Harry told him. "As if her staying at Hogwarts was an option."

Kyla was Harry's twelve-year-old daughter. She was already as independent as her mother and she was only in her second year.

Lupin laughed shortly. "I know what you mean. My kids liked to spend Christmas with their friends more than with the family too. I was convinced they were using one of the old secret passages to get to Hogsmeade over the breaks." Remus had a son and a daughter that were in seventh year when Kyla was in first. They graduated and followed their father in working for the Ministry - both in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement like Harry.

"So, you wanted some information," Lupin said, getting to business.

"How quickly did you blow Agape off?" Harry inquired, grinning. "Did she at least get to tell you who I wanted information on before you sent her back?"

"I know exactly who you want information on, but I won't just give out Logan Bireley's file for no reason," Remus explained.

"All I want is some background information," Harry said. "Something up to date. At most, I'd like an interview – which you can arrange."

"Apparently I don't need to."

Harry didn't understand. "What do you mean?"

Lupin sat back in his chair, folded his arms, and nodded in the direction of his door. "You were just talking to him in the waiting room."

"What!" He couldn't believe it. Bireley knew he was looking for him now, if he hadn't before, and Harry let him walk right out of the door.

The girl that walked out with him had hidden her face from him; she must be involved the Blood Traitors as well. He considered her age and hoped he was mistaken. The last thing he needed was a group of vigilante teens and werewolves running around ignoring Ministry laws.

"Who was the girl in here before me?" Harry asked Remus suddenly.

"No, Harry. She's not your concern," Remus said sharply.

"Remus," Harry said in and equally sharp tone, "If she's with Bireley, she _is_ my concern."

Lupin shook his head and held up his hand. "You wanted information on Logan, did you not?"

Harry sighed in frustration, but nodded.

"Alright, I'll tell you about Logan Bireley. First, you should know that he was married, and he has a four-year-old little girl, named Liberty. He had a well-paying job, a nice house; he was happy. Then, he was bitten, and all of that was taken away. His wife divorced him, took his daughter away, and his boss fired him. When I first found him, he was wandering in the woods around my house in wolf form. He'd never even heard of a Wolfsbane potion, so he obviously was not safe – much less registered with the Ministry. I got all of his legal affairs worked out and now he has a job again, though the pay is low. His house is still little more than a shack in the middle of the woods near my house. Now he is harboring a Ministry witness, Alton Drake, in his home out of kindness. He is trustworthy and decent, and I can't have you harassing him, Harry."

Harry snorted. "I won't harass him! I'm not a ghoul, Remus. But I know he's a part of the Blood Traitors, and none of us can be sure they are all trustworthy and decent."

"I think they are our allies," Lupin commented.

"They've disrupted every Ministry action against the Optimates since the beginning of this year – maybe even before then," Harry reminded him, then added sarcastically, "Some allies we've got."

"I never said they were allies to the Ministry. The Order, on the other hand, can use all of the friends we can get."

_(Author's note: You may have noticed that Harry was a little slow on the uptake in this chapter, but when you get that involved in a project, it's easy to miss some of the obvious details.) _

_Useful information: Optimates is Latin for "the best'" or, "the highest race", and is pronounced Optee-mat-es._

_Useless information: most people write Harry Potter with a daughter instead of a son. I couldn't decide, so I flipped a coin! _


	3. Chapter 3 The Chart and The Inflitrator

_Chapter Three_

_The Chart and the Infiltrator_

1

"How are you Harry?" said a slow, deep voice.

Harry looked up to see Kingsley Shacklebolt standing in his office doorway. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Agape's head swiftly look up from her papers as well.

"Superb," Harry replied, smiling at his old friend, and present boss. "You?"

"Can't say the same. Crocker's lead on that Optimus, Cane, turned out to be a flop. However, I'd be a lot happier if I had some information on the Blood Traitors."

Harry's smile broadened to a true grin. "We've made some plausible connections that pretty much prove that our suspects are connected with each other."

It had been a week since the interview with Drake, and six days since Harry's meeting with Remus. He and Agape had done some digging since then – including going to Hogwarts to talk with Headmistress McGonagall, Harry's old teacher. She probably gave them more information than anyone.

"Let's hear it," Kingsley said excitedly.

Harry pulled a roll of parchment out of a drawer in his desk and nodded to Agape to get the files they had as he unfurled it on the desk top. Along with the files, a beaming Agape brought Kingsley a chair so he could sit across from Harry. She loved seeing Kingsley because she'd had a crush on him ever since he had complemented one of her Egyptian dishes she brought to the Office Christmas party. Even Harry hadn't eaten any of the stuff. It smelled strange and spicy, with a name that actually made more sense in Parseltongue than it did in Egyptian.

"Alright," Harry said, putting a finger on the chart he made to connect the suspects. "This explains everything we know so far. Our first real witness was Alton Drake." he tapped on the name. "He told us about Bireley and Thorpe. Ferris Thorpe," he pointed to that name and the information written below it, "is still in hiding from the Optimates – or at least his family is. Apparently Alton was in the same safe house with the Thorpes for a few weeks before being relocated to Bireley's place. Logan Bireley's life was pretty much ruined by the Optimates, and we think he met Thorpe through Drake. Furthermore, all three of them have met with Augustus Schmitt in the past."

"Who is this bloke, and how did you find out about him?" Kingsley asked, indicating Schmitt's name with no information below it. "Last I heard, you only had three names and some woman you can't find a file for."

"Drake affirmed that he knew Schmitt during his interview," Harry told him. When Kingsley didn't look impressed, he swiftly continued: "He's Garry Moore's assistant. And each time he met with these people, he was taking things into his own hands without authorization from Moore – so he was looking to his own business, not the Ministry's. And get this, he's got '_really good instincts about Optimates,_' according to his coworkers. Nearly every time these Blood Traitors come into the picture, he's on the scene. Until recently."

"Why not recently?" Kingsley asked. "Some inside source cut him off?"

"You might think that," Harry said, "but he still gives Moore some unexplainable tips. He just hasn't been showing up on the scene anymore."

"The Office has gotten wise to him."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but from what I hear, he's been doing this for at least seven or eight years now."

"Nine, actually," Agape added in an uncharacteristically hesitant voice. It must have been a while since she'd last seen Kingsley judging by how shy she was acting.

"Nine, then," Harry corrected himself before looking back at Kingsley. "But, just like you said, he's obviously got an inside man. If I could find out who that person was, this could go somewhere very interesting."

"So what are you going to do?" his boss inquired, grinning again.

"Well, today I though I'd start by pushing Schmitt's buttons a little – they say he's a real nervous guy. Easily flustered. Then I thought I'd check out another name that came up in our files: some friend of Dumbledore's." He paused and pointed to another name on the chart that had very little information beneath it. "Which, reminds me. Kingsley, did you ever know a Creighton Squires from the Order?"

Kingsley thought for a moment, but shook his head. "Not that I recall. Maybe you should ask Lupin about him. He was there with the originals."

Harry winced slightly. "I hoped you wouldn't say that. He's been pretty reluctant to give me information recently," he admitted. Harry was still a bit miffed by Remus's lack of response to his requests for Bireley's files.

"Try McGonagall, then," Kingsley suggested. "She probably knew Dumbledore longer than all of us."

Harry nodded then. "Sounds like a plan." He got up and walked Kingsley to the door on his way out. "I'll keep you posted."

"You better. If these Traitors turn out to be a threat to our operations, we need to get rid of them, and fast."

With that, Kingsley turned back toward his office down the hall, Agape crying breathlessly over Harry's shoulder, "Have a nice day, Mr. Shacklebolt!"

Harry gave her a look, which she responded to in a much more normal tone of voice.

"What? All I said was have a nice day. Why are you looking at me like that?"

Kingsley's last statement bothered Harry. It reminded him of when the Ministry wanted to get rid of _him_. Of course, the whole place had been under different management back then.

Still, when those words came out of Kinsley's mouth, of all people, it was irksome. He and Harry were still a part of the Order of the Phoenix, where they not? They both knew that the Ministry hadn't viewed the Order as allies until they needed help in the final battle against Voldemort. Just because the Blood Traitors weren't working with the Ministry didn't mean they were working against it.

Harry made a mental note to keep that in mind from now on. His assignment was to investigate the Blood Traitors to ensure they weren't anti-Ministry, not to pursue them as criminals. He rolled his eyes, realizing he was in agreement with what Lupin had said about them: They were more likely to be friendly toward the Order.

Turning back into the office, he "_accio"_ed the chart and it flew into his hands from his desk. "I'll take this with me in case I need to add something later today," he told Agape. "I don't know when I'll be back, but it should be before you leave."

"Okay," Agape answered distractedly as she sat down in her chair and rummaged through a drawer. "So you plan on seeing Schmitt, McGonagall, then Squires?" Harry nodded. "Shall I tell McGonagall and Squires then?"

"Yes," Harry agreed. "I don't know how long it'll take with Schmitt, though, so don't bother with times."

He left her to her work and stuffed the chart into his pocket as he walked down the hall. As soon as he looked up again, however, there was a hard impact on his left shoulder and he bounced off of someone.

Taking a step back, Harry found himself looking at a swarthy skinned man with a surprised expression on his handsome face.

"Sorry," Harry said, "wasn't looking where I was going."

The man smiled and looked Harry straight in the eye. "Me neither. Don't worry about it." Then he went on his way.

Harry had noticed two things about the man that stood out. Firstly, his clothes were not Ministry robes, so he obviously didn't work there. It wasn't so unusual to see; he could be visiting someone. The second thing was that he never once looked at the scar on Harry's forehead. Since people had been doing it for thirty-seven years, Harry now noticed it more when it didn't happen. Almost no one wouldn't recognize him, and the only people that didn't look for the mark were people that knew him and had gotten used to it.

_You're over analyzing things again, _Harry told himself_. You're still in Auror mode. He was just some bloke_.

He continued on his way without further incident, turning the corner into the Office of Investigations five minutes later. He walked all the way to the back where Garrison Moore's office was located. Garry was the Head of the office of Investigations and Augustus Schmitt, it just so happens, was his assistant.

_How convenient for the Blood Traitors_, Harry thought to himself. If this guy proved to be part of their group, they would be very well informed indeed. Schmitt would naturally know loads about his office and what goes on inside of it, being that he looked over and sorted every paper for his boss.

He entered Schmitt's office, which was the antechamber to Moore's. The door between the two was open and Moore looked up from his desk.

"Mr. Potter," He said gruffly, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I believe 'grief' is a more appropriate word, Moore, but I'm not here to see you, for once. I was looking for your assistant, Augustus," Harry told him.

"He took an early lunch break," said Moore, dismissively.

"You don't mind if I wait then, do you?"

Moore scowled at Harry as he replied, "Of course not," and used his wand to slam the dividing door.

Harry heaved a sigh and collapsed into the chair behind Schmitt's desk. Schmitt most likely had a thirty minute lunch break, and that would give Harry ample time to rummage through his desk. He opened one of the top drawers and examined the papers inside.

There was nothing concerning his case, just a few notes on vampires and petty crimes. He opened the drawers below, used for filing. He flipped through the files and found what he was looking for: there were at least three files about nothing but the Optimates. He picked one up and looked it over. Nothing that he didn't already know. The second and third turned out the same. This must be what he was working on with Moore because Harry was already aware of all of this information so far. He looked at some files in the very back, but to no avail.

Feeling disappointed and getting impatient, he leaned back in the chair and glanced at the top of the desk. On it was a pad of customized business stationary. Top and center of the paper was Schmitt's home address (in case he needed to be contacted at home) – Schmitt was definitely a workaholic. Harry tore off the top leaflet and pocketed it.

Staring up at the ceiling in thought, Harry suddenly froze. Had he not just put the stationary in the same pocket he had put his chart in? He couldn't remember feeling it when he added the other paper. Shoving his hand in his pocket he found that the chart was missing.

He was out of the room and back in front of his office in two minutes flat. There was no chart to be found: not on the floor in the hall, not around his desk, not around Agape's desk. His assistant merely tilted her chair back to allow him more room to search as she continued her work as best she could.

When he stood up straight again she asked, "Anything I can get you, Harry?"

"Have you seen the chart?"

"You have it in your pocket," she said, unphased.

"No. I don't." He was standing very still now, watching her calmness with growing frustration.

"Are you sure it's not in your _other_ pocket?"

"I'm a bloody Auror. Don't you think I've already checked?"

"It's happened before."

"I could use little more assistance from my _assistant_, if you don't mind terribly," Harry growled.

Agape rose and helped him look, but neither of them came up with anything.

"I don't see what the big deal is, Harry," she said, readjusting her long dark hair after she closed a file cabinet on it. "We can make another one."

"It is a big deal, if I'm right," he told her in a very serious voice.

"About what?" She knew he wasn't overreacting now. Something was definitely wrong.

"The Blood Traitors have it. They know what we know."

"How?" Agape said in slight alarm.

"A man, who definitely didn't work here, bumped into me and must have taken it," Harry explained. "And it would make since, because Schmitt had just left his office when I got there. He must have taken his lunch 'early' because he knew I was coming."

Agape shook her head slightly. "How could he have gotten a warning from someone that fast? He would have had to go the same distance you did to get there. It takes longer than that to write and send one of the flying memos."

"They must have a faster form of communication."

"Like what? There are no fireplaces. Memos would take too long. It's too hard to conceal even the smallest owls, which you would have seen if it flew over your head anyway. What else is there? A bull horn?"

"I don't know, but I aim to find out very soon," Harry told her. "I'm going to find Schmitt. McGonagall can can wait until tomorrow."

With those words he left once more. After hey had stolen a vital piece of information from him, Harry could not believe the Blood Traitors were exactly allies. Maybe they had something to hide after all...

2

Only twenty minutes later, Agape had informed McGonagall that Harry wouldn't be able to see her, organized everything that needed to be done that day, and put it in a neat stack on her desk before sending it all away with her wand. She decided she wanted some lunch before getting started on anything else, so she grabbed her purse and headed out. Her heals clipped out the firm beat of her long strides on the floor as she went down the empty hall. She only came upon one other person, a swarthy and very attractive man dressed in civilian clothes inside the lift.

She moved inside next to him, giving him a winning smile, which he returned charmingly. She was almost as tall as he was – but was relieved when she realized it was just her heels. Standing flat-footed she was eye to eye with Harry, so she was understandably self-conscious about her height.

"Hello," she said to the man.

"_Hallo. Wie geht es Ihnen?_" he said back.

"Uh... Just lovely. You?"

"_Ich bin gut. Wurde Sie mögen etwas Bier?_"

"Um... I'm guessing that's German... that's great. Do you speak English by any chance?"

"_Englisch ist für Ziegen_."

"I see." The lift stopped at the atrium and Agape made her move to leave, saying, "Have a nice day."

"_Bluttraitorsrichtlinie!_" called cheerfully after her.

Agape had to laugh at herself. It was just her luck to meet a very attractive, friendly, and cultural man, who also happened to be completely insane.

Then, she stopped dead in her tracks. Harry had said that the man he bumped into earlier 'definitely didn't work for the Ministry'. The German man most certainly did not work here. When she whirled around, however, he was already gone. His speedy disappearance only convinced her that he knew more than he should and was trying to leave as swiftly as possible.

_Oh, no_, she thought with determination, _he's not getting away that easily._

3

First it was a pub in London. Then it was the streets of London. After that, it was near the Leaky Cauldron, were he finally lost Schmitt. Harry had been so busy tailing the man all day, trying to corner him, that by the time he got to Diagon Alley, he was starving for lack of a decent lunch. He stopped at a a newly added bakery across from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and hoped he might spot his target again.

As he ate, he peered over at the window display of Fred and George Weasley's joke shop. There was a bright purple broom that gave every bit of evidence of grandeur to the untrained eye, but was really only a trick broom that would turn into some random form five feet from the ground. "Watch your friends flop, with a swoop and a pop," were the words the sign bore beneath it. Harry was strongly reminded of the Weasley's fake wands from his school days.

When he was trough, the waitress came out and took his empty plate from the table. "Have a good evening, Mr. Potter," she said, beaming at him. As usual, everyone knew who he was.

_Evening?_ Harry thought, it was only the afternoon. He had been so distracted he hadn't even realized the sky was darkening. "You, too", he replied to the waitress absentmindedly. "What time is it?" he added before she left.

"A quarter 'til six, last time I looked," she said, disappearing behind the wall that divided the kitchen from the dining area.

It was time to go find Mr. Squires, as planned. He would have other opportunities to find Schmitt.

Harry got up and headed for the café that had been the setting of the 'incident' which started his investigation. The Walnut Café was only half intact now, after the explosion it suffered last week. The entire restaurant front was destroyed and the floors above were obviously supported by magic to keep them from collapsing until the ground floor could be repaired. The debris strewn area was covered with a thick layer of dust that made it look very dull compared to the evening sunset beginning to appear over Diagon Alley. Harry looked around for any sign of people before striding into the open wall that used to be an entrance to the café.

He made his way to the back wall – still intact, thankfully – to the stars there. The stairwell had been cleared of dust and fully repaired for safety reasons. The upstairs hall was also clean and seemingly unharmed. Harry stopped there, wondering how he should announce his presence to the apartment's inhabitants without a door to knock on. He was just about to call out for someone's attention, when he stopped and thought everything was far too quiet for anyone to be here. Pondering this, he realized that it wasn't too quiet for _someone_ to be here. Someone being very, very quiet, indeed.

Stealthily, he moved close to the wall on his left, approaching the nearest door as silent as humanly possible. There were no voices, and no signs of movement, nothing to really tell him that anyone was in the home, except for the overwhelming stillness.

The door was ajar (the biggest reason he had chosen to get closer) so he would be able to peer inside without being spotted immediately. Slowly and cautiously, he turned his head around the door frame just enough to see inside the crack. It was no use, there was a light on inside, but no visual to be found. Wand at the ready, he quietly pushed the door open and stepped inside. What he saw made him freeze.

It didn't all register at once. At first he only saw the woman: pale blond and wearing a white trench coat. Immediately afterwards he saw the still form lying in the chair before her, and the profile of the dead man's face as it tilted back, mouth gaping open, over the top of his wing-backed chair.

The woman whirled around, her pale eyes registering her shock at finding Harry behind her before quickly narrowing. From that fist look, he knew her face – her beauty, her fierceness, and just how formidable a threat she truly was.

They raised their wands, but she wasn't fast enough. He stunned her in the blink of an eye. He felt someone behind him, and, without time to take a breath, stunned that person as well. Harry couldn't even get a glimpse of the second attacker's features (though he knew him to be a man) before he was face to face with another person – but only for a split second. Harry recognized the face of the dark man in the Ministry before a flash of red shot between his eyes and blackness engulfed him.

_(In very bad German, "_Hallo. Wie geht es Ihnen?_" means: "Hello, how are you?" "_Ich bin gut. Wurde Sie mögen etwas Bier?_" means: "I'm good. Would you like some beer?" "_Englisch ist für Ziegen_." means: "English is for goats" And "_Bluttraitorsrichtlinie!_" means: "Blood Traitors rule!" My Sister suggested that I make Agape reply to him in Egyptian, but I can't find a translation for that language. Ginny shows up in the next chapter so check in a gain soon!) _


	4. Chapter 4 Agape and the Inside Man

_Chapter Four_

_Agape and the Inside Man_

1

Agape was not as good as Harry when it came to tailing someone, but she was doing well so far. At least, she hoped she was. Maybe the foreign man wasn't very good at losing a pursuer – she would be very lucky if he hadn't seen her at all. She couldn't be sure, but he hadn't shown signs of recognizing her so far.

Then again, she had to assume he was reasonably talented since he got in and out of the Ministry, with Harry's chart, unnoticed. She hoped he wasn't merely toying with her, that he knew exactly who she was and was leading her somewhere she wouldn't like.

She watched him turn into an alley – fully lit by the late afternoon sun, but narrow – and she hesitated. It was necessary to wait a moment before following so he wouldn't discover her, but she also wasn't sure if this was a trick. With her wand readily clasped in her fist, Agape counted to fifteen before rounding the corner.

No one was there.

She looked around cautiously and walked further into the alley, silently cursing her luck. Whether it was a trick or he had simply Disapparated, she was screwed. She frowned as she took in the slim space: a single industrial sized dumpster was ahead to her right, a fire escape ladder in its extended position to her left, and a wall with tiny windows blocked the far end.

As she turned back toward the street, he came from above, jumping from the fire escape, and landed on his feet before her. Agape jerked back a pace but never made any sound of fear or surprise, to her great relief. He didn't have his wand out, so she counted that as a sign that he wouldn't attack her – at least not immediately.

"Guten tag," she said sarcastically. "Any more German for me?"

He grinned in a purely friendly (and handsome) way. "'Ow deed you know?" he asked through a thick French accent. "Was my German really zat bad?"

Agape had to keep herself from gaping at him. _Now he's French?_

"Your actions gave you away," Agape told him.

"So deed yours," he responded, still grinning. "You are not vairy good at tailing. Not an Auror I presume?"

"If you knew I was there, why did you allow me to follow you?" she asked in her most confident voice. "What do you plan on doing to me now that you have me? Going to hurt me?"

"Not unless you plan to 'urt me first."

Agape shook her head. "I'm not your enemy... yet."

"Zen why do you assume I am already yours?"

"You have something that belongs to us," Agape said, getting straight to the point.

"'Oo is 'us'?"

"The Auror Headquarters. You have a scroll from our department."

His grin broadened. "Oui. I must say, I was quite deesapointed when I deedn't see myself on ze leest."

"I want it back," she commanded, holding out her hand. When he didn't immediately oblige she added, "now," in a dangerous tone.

"Vairy well," he said mildly. "I 'ave no furzair use for it."

He held it out and she snatched it from his fingers, unfurling it to check the contents. It was the one.

As she did this, the man said, "You might tell Monsieur Pottair to pay closair attention in ze future. If I could take zis from 'is pocket, imagine 'ow easy it would be for an Opteemus."

"I'll be sure to mention it to him," Agape said, again being sarcastic as she rolled the parchment back up. She made to put it in her pocket, but thought better of it. He was right, it had already been taken that way once. So she put down her button-up shirt instead.

The man nodded, nearly laughing as he said, "Zat is a bettair idea."

As if she cared.

Suddenly Agape jumped and held her wand defensively as a shrill whistle rang out over her head. Her face jerked up in an attempt to see who had made the sound, but all she could see were the underbellies of the fire escapes connected to each floor above them.

"Oy, Pier! Get a move on, will you?" yelled a deep voice, its master still hidden. Judging by the direction of the sound, he was probably just inside one of the windows.

Agape quickly locked her eyes back on the man in front of her. He watched her for a moment. She knew what he was waiting for: he wanted to know if she had the authority – or rather, the ability – to arrest him.

The answer was _no_ for both. She was not an Auror, like Harry, or a hit-wizard, like Garry Moore. She was only an assistant, even if she _was_ very involved in helping to fight crime. Plus she couldn't just attack him right here. It was a Muggle populated area for one matter, but the more important thing was that she couldn't be sure how outnumbered she was. There was definitely one other man, but there could be many more hidden all around.

When she made no move, he started to turn away, but she stopped him.

"Pier, huh?" she said, thought she knew it wasn't his name. "I'll be sure to add you to the chart."

He chuckled appreciatively and disapparated. Agape could have sworn she heard another pop from the fire escape, and perhaps even from a window in the opposite building.

She came out of the alley gratefully unscathed. At the same time, however, she was disappointed in herself. Once again she found herself reevaluating her choice of becoming an assistant rather than just going all the way and actually taking on a career that set her face to face with the criminals. Having just done so, she felt familiarly unfulfilled by walking away. Despite her fear of putting herself in a deadly situation, she had a faint stirring inside her, like a predator that was being forced not to pursue it's prey.

She paused on the sidewalk and the other people walking kept moving without her, treating her like one of the lamp posts in their path. It suddenly occurred to her... the perfect solution to the sour feeling in her gut – her own personal way of sticking it to slippery criminals – was lying in wait on the edge of Hogsmeade.

2

With her long strides and brisk walk, Agape sliced her way down the streets of Hogsmeade. There was a family-owned book store there called _Hawkins and Sons Hard to Find Books_, where you could find almost any book as long as you couldn't find it anywhere else. A young man with no relation to the Hawkins worked there full time. He was as odd as the book store and had been there since his graduation in 2015, so he told Agape.

She flung open the door, with it's large window etched to exclaim the title of the store, and walked inside. The shelves were so packed together that even a house-elf would need to turn sideways to make it down certain rows. Agape got through the shelves and piles of musty old books and quickly reached the back.

Sure enough, sitting behind the counter was Remy Cole, nineteen and loving it. Perhaps "odd" wasn't quite the word to describe Remy – a more appropriate word was "uneven." The first thing everyone noticed about him was his severely crooked nose that leaned lazily to the left. The second thing might be his uneven teeth, if he smiled at you, which he almost always did. Last, but not the least noticeable, were his eyes. The right one was a clear blue, but the left one was blue green. Even if all of these things were put right, he still wouldn't be very handsome. But the only thing he cared about less than his face was his pot-belly.

Agape leaned over the counter and looked down at him. "Hello, Remy."

"Agape!" Remy exclaimed with too much enthusiasm. "You know I was just thinking I needed someone to liven up my day. What can I do for you?"

"The usual," she answered.

"One heart thumping snog in the back coming up," he said jokingly.

"Not that usual."

"Tonsil hockey on the desk?"

"Nope."

"Face sucking behind the Herbology selves?"

Agape grinned but shook her head.

"Oh, I see how it is," Remy said in a mock pout. "You're just here for information... again."

"You got it, Love."

So Remy led her through the back storage area and into a special room where all of the rarest, most valuable books were held. In this room, where dust hung in the air because it had nowhere else to go, was an enormous ledger. It used to belong to the Ministry and was used to keep track of all of the witches and wizards in the UK. It said who was born there, who immigrated, and who was just visiting. If they had ever set foot on Britain soil, they were in it. After the 1900's came around, the Ministry retired it and got a new system with files, thinking the ledger would stop updating itself. One could see by how thick it was now, that it certainly had not stopped updating. According to Remy, it ended up in the basement of some Ministry Official for many years. After the man died in the early 1950's, his Family auctioned some of his possessions and Mr. Hawkins bought it.

When Agape found out about it on one of her many visits to the shop – she liked strange books – she asked if she could use it as long as she kept it between Harry, herself, and who ever Mr. Hawkins trusted to take them to it. He agreed and gave them Remy.

Remy uncovered the ledger with a flourish, revealing how enormous it really was: it was as long as a three-drawer file cabinet, thicker than the height of a human head, and was propped up in its own stout podium-like stand.

"So are you looking for anyone in particular?" Remy inquired.

"Yes, but I don't know his name or how long he's been in Britain. He could be either German or French, or maybe even something completely different." She sighed. "It'll have to be a broad search."

"This'll be a long day, then?"

"Most likely."

"Righto," Remy exclaimed. "I'll make some coffee and we can have a snog break every hour or so..."

"Dream on," Agape smirked wryly. "Before all that, maybe you can help me narrow the search. Can I search by appearance? The last few times I've come, I had names to look up, so I don't really know the other search options."

"You can search by anything, really," he told her. Opening the cover with a heavy thud, the minuscule labels that represented chapters, years, and other forms of search were revealed. Remy ran his finger down the list: _Age; Ethnicity; Criminal Records; Color, eyes; Color, hair; Date of Birth; Date of Death; Date of Graduation; Immigration; _and_ Nationality_; just to name a few. The list went on for two more pages.

"You might want to look in the different nationalities first, if you think he's foreign," Remy suggested.

"He might not be, but let's just say French," Agape told him.

Remy pressed his wand tip to the title: _Nationalities_. The book came to life and flipped to a certain page with a new, less buxom list. Again Remy used his wand to tap the page, this time on the _French_ label. A few pages shuffled by. "See," he said, "now you can go to subcategories, like A_ppearance_, _Immigration_, or _Criminal Records_."

"Okay, lets try appearance," Agape said.

Another list came up: _Age, Ethnicity, Eyes, Hair, Height, Sex, Weight_. She couldn't use the age category because she would need to know how old he was when he came to England. So she went to _Hair_, black, and _Height_, about six-feet. She couldn't say what ethnicity he was, but he had an olive complexion. After all of this, her search had narrowed to just over two-thousand living dark-haired-six-foot French wizards, who had come to the UK. Knowing the year he had come would have helped

"This is going to be a long night, Remy. You may want to go ahead and put on that coffee."

Hours and two pots of coffee later, Agape finally found her man. "This is him!" she exclaimed.

Remy, dozing in a chair behind her, started awake and leaned forward to have a look over her shoulder. "That's him huh? No wonder you're looking for him: he's a pretty boy. Some vigilante he's making. No scars, or eye-patches even."

Agape ignored him, she was too busy reading the man's profile. His name was Roman B. Luciano and he was indeed from France, but he was born in Rome, Italy. He was twenty-eight-years-old and came to England ten years ago. He got into some trouble nine years ago and was helped by Augustus Schmitt (so this was Schmitt's inside man). He worked unofficially for the Ministry passing information, but last year he was arrested for the infiltration of Hogwarts and ended up escaping Azkaban in the mass break out that night. He was never tried, and thus, never convicted.

_How do I find him?_ Agape asked herself. She looked up his last place of residence: just on the edge of London in an apartment building.

"Thank you, Remy," she blurted, closing the ledger. "I have to go."

"You're leaving me? I'm hurt," Remy said following her out of the room and out to the back desk. "We didn't even get a make-out break."

"Rain check!" Agape called over her shoulder as she rushed through the book shelves and reached the front door.

"Farewell, my Egyptian Queen of the Nile! Until we meet again!"

The door closed and Remy heard a familiar female voice say, "Exactly who is this Queen of the Nile?" He turned to see his girlfriend, a fizzy-haired redhead in a Hogwarts uniform, standing beside the desk.

"She's nothing to me! I swear! You're my one and only snuggly-wuggly-poo," he insisted to the grinning girl.

3

The shadow of the apartment building loomed over Agape. It was in a largely Muggle populated area, but had the typical Ministry camouflage of abandonment, with a little help from additional charms to make it anything but eye-catching. However, Agape saw it for what it was: adequate and nouveau chic, if not very grand. She stepped up to the front entrance. It was locked to all but those with a key, but the Ministry had given her a crash course in entering places like this with simple guarding spells. It had three separate charms – all were cracked and the door opened within twenty-five minutes.

Stepping over the threshold, it was easy to see this was originally an industrial building. It was more practical than beautiful, and probably less expensive without the mar of being called cheep.

Agape ascended the staircase to the second floor, where she knew she would find apartment 210. The black painted door bearing these numbers was at the end of the hall. This too was not very well protected. With only two slightly more challenging lock spells to get through, she was inside within minutes. She knew he wasn't there. No home was that quiet with no lights on at seven o'clock in the evening if its inhabitants are there. Agape proceeded to carefully search the flat.

It was set up simply, with a living room and kitchen combination and a single bedroom with a bath. It was mostly clean, with just a few scattered clothes on the bedroom floor. To say the least, the place was pretty barren. He didn't even have a desk of any type, so the easy place to look for information was nonexistent. Instead, she checked his closet. Nothing but foreign clothes – mainly Italian brands. She went to the next place that had storage space: the kitchen drawers. As she rummaged through them as quickly as possible, skipping ones with silverware, et cetera, she found one with nothing but paper inside.

She picked up different sheets and searched the righting. There was only one problem: they were all in Italian. Agape tried to remember some of her Latin to decipher base-words, but it just didn't work. She sighed in frustration and her shoulders slumped. Just when she thought she was a step closer, there was another obstacle to maneuver around. Perhaps she could take them with her and translate them later.

If she hadn't been thinking about pocketing the notes, she probably wouldn't have noticed the small tug at her robes pocket where she kept her wand. She spun around, expecting Mr. Luciano to be right behind her, but he was standing juxtaposed with the couch in the living room. He held her wand in his left hand and his own in his right.

"Shouldn't you be letting Potter do this?"he said flatly. She didn't realize it at first, but he had no trace of an accent other than English.

Agape noticed he was much less amused now than he had been earlier. "_Bonjour_, Roman Luciano. Or should I say _Ciao bello_?"

He stepped closer, but that didn't make his expression any easier to read. Despite his lack of visual anger, his demeanor was much more intimidating than it had ever been that afternoon.

"Saying nothing at all would probably be a better idea at the moment," he said in the same flat voice. Through his calm actions he managed to radiate fury. It was enough to make Agape back up a pace with every step he took toward her.

"I just wanted to gain a better picture of who you were, Mr. Luciano," she said boldly, but her fears were displayed with every step she took from him. They had now moved from the kitchen area back into the living room.

"Your picture of me must already be quite complete," he retorted. "But you came to the wrong place for more information. You never would have found anything here, even if I'd let you search all night."

Her back hit a barrier and she realized it was the front door. He wasn't that much taller than her, but it made a difference when he was standing so close to her. Agape's only defense was to keep talking.

"Why the attitude switch? Business go badly tonight?"

He leaned forward, and she could back up no further as his face stopped mere inches away from hers. When he spoke again, his voice betrayed his impatience. "If you had any idea what you were talking about about, you wouldn't say things like that."

"Give me my wand back," she demanded.

"Get out."

His hand turned the knob at her hip and she stumbled backward as her weight pushed the door open. In the hall she moved to the wall opposite his apartment, and he threw her wand at her feet before slamming the door. She snatched her wand up from the floor and bolted down the steps to exit the building.

As soon as her shoe touched the ground outside, she heard an owl shriek, then she was under attack. Six curses came from different directions and Agape hit the dirt to avoid them. From there, she shot stunning spells in every area she cold see a curse coming from. First shot, a hooded figure fell out of the shrubbery. Second shot, one plunged to the ground from a tree. Third shot, another across the street collapsed. A searing pain clawed its was up her arm and blood spattered her cheek when one of the curses rocketed by. Nonetheless, she managed to get another shot in, this one toward the sky, and a figure fell from one of the balconies.

After that there was no sound but the wind and her gasping breaths. She slowly and cautiously moved into a crouching position (skirt and all) to peer around at her attackers. She counted her four, but noticed that two more were laid out as well. She knew she hadn't done six spells.

"Nice aim," said the voice of Roman Luciano.

Whirling around to find him behind her for the second time that night, Agape held her wand out defensively this time.

"We have to go," he said.

"What?" She was totally confused now.

"We've got to go now," he insisted. "The Optimates send a very quick backup. Trust me, I know."

_(Author's Note: Special thanks to Caitlin and my sister, lulgijak, for helping me through writer's block. I know I promised that Ginny would be in this chapter, but her part just didn't fit. She will be in the next chapter though, and so will her daughter! happy giggle! And don't worry, Harry's coming back too!)_


	5. Chapter 5 What?

_Chapter Five_

_What?_

1

Ginny Potter had fallen asleep on the couch, a book lay open against her chest where it had fallen not five minutes before.

It had become apparent by eleven-forty that Harry was working late, but she decided to wait up for him anyway. She didn't like it when he stayed in the office for this many hours in one day and she was never lax in reminding him of the fact, which was part of the reason she had wanted to stay awake. He always felt guilty for missing dinner.

Unbeknown by the red-haired woman, the head of Nymphadora Tonks appeared in the fireplace and looked about for any inhabitants of the living room.

"Ginny?" said Tonks's head when she spotted Harry's wife on the couch.

Ginny jerked awake and looked in the direction of the voice.

"Oh!" She got up to move closer to the fireplace. "Hello, Tonks. What's up?"

It wasn't a good sign when one of your husband's superiors showed up in the fireplace before he did.

"I was just wondering if Harry was around," Tonks replied casually.

Ginny knew that Tonks was concerned then, but she didn't want to worry Ginny if turned out there was nothing wrong.

"No," Ginny said darkly. "And I'm guessing you can't find him, because you wouldn't be here if you knew where he was."

"Don't jump to any conclusions just yet," Tonks said, frowning. "But we haven't seen him here since before lunch time."

"Have you asked Agape?"

"She's not here either. That's why Kingsley said I should see if he sneaked home early without telling anyone."

Ginny paused, trying not to overreact or work herself into a panic too quickly. There was no reason for that yet, but the flame of worry had been lit.

"Hang on a second," said Tonks, and Ginny could see her looking at someone to her left. "Say that again," she said to the person who had interrupted.

There was a muffled reply.

"What? Why would he be there?"

Another unintelligible reply.

"Is he alright?" Tonks had asked the question as quietly as possible, but she couldn't hide it from Ginny.

Ginny's heart skipped a beat and the worry flame grew a little higher.

There was no time to ask before Tonks nodded at the other person and turned back to tell her the situation. "They've found him," she said, the relief evident in her voice. "He's okay, but maybe you should meet me at St. Mungo's."

"If he was okay he wouldn't be at St. Mungos," Ginny pointed out. "Is he hurt?"

"They're just checking him over – standard procedure. Just meet me there."

Then she was gone, leaving Ginny staring into a Tonks-free fire. She let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding and got up to get dressed again. She decided to leave her pajama top on to save time and just put on some real pants along with a jacket and shoes. Grabbing her purse as she concentrated on where she wanted to be, she turned in circle and was at St. Mungo's.

Tonks was in the waiting room already. Without a word, she lead Ginny down one of the halls. Her expression was that of frank concern, and though the flame was now a torch, Ginny resisted asking questions until they got to their destination.

They turned a corner and entered a more private room with only one bed. Harry was sitting on it, staring in utter boredom at a medi-wizard pointing a wand light into his eyes to check the pupils.

Ginny moved toward the bed until she was just in front of him. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her purse swinging from one elbow. He looked at her, waiting for it.

"You missed dinner," she said flatly.

He winced. "Sorry."

She stepped forward again and put her hands on either side of his face to kiss him. Relief had flooded her and the worry flame was receding.

Tonks had given them their moment, but now had to get things straight.

"Harry," she said, and she moved to Ginny's left to talk to him, "what happened?"

"A very bad stunning spell," Harry replied.

"Bad as in poor?"

"Bad as in horribly effective. It wasn't a standard spell. I didn't even recover from it on my own, someone found me and had to call the Ministry."

"Who?"

"Briana Squires."

"Where were you?" Ginny inquired.

"The Walnut Café in Diagon Alley," he said.

Tonks's brow furrowed. "Kingsley mentioned you were going to see a man there by the name of Squires and I knew a woman ran the place. So who was the casualty?"

"Casualty!" Ginny exclaimed, her face jerked back to Harry.

Harry sighed and she could see the fatigue in his eyes. "Creighton Squires," he said to Tonks, "was the man I was looking for. He was the one murdered. His daughter, Briana, runs the café. She was upset, but she didn't seem very surprised that they killed him."

"She didn't, huh?" Tonks said, her voice dropping to a grim, knowing tone. "That probably means she knows something we don't."

"That, and her father was in some dangerous business," said Harry.

"Wait," Ginny butted in. "Who killed him?"

Harry and Tonks answered her in unison but said two different things. Tonks said, "The Optimates," and Harry said, "The Blood Traitors."

Tonks's eyes widened and she stared at him.

"What?"

2

The next morning found Kyla Potter with turmoil of her own to deal with at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"But, Professor Longbottom," second-year, Kyla begged after first period, "You can't blame us for that! We never even touched her stupid project!"

"That's enough, Miss Potter," Professor Neville Longbottom, head of Gryffindor House, said patiently. "You and Mr. Vaughn, will be serving a detention with me later. After dinner you two will come back to my office and I'll give you your tasks for tomorrow night."

"But," Kyla began to protest again.

She was stopped by the professor's raised hand signaling silence. "Please, Miss Potter," he said. "I know this isn't all your fault but retribution must be had to keep the peace. It's only one detention, not really that bad. Now, hurry up and go to your next class before you're late."

Professor Longbottom turned, walked into his office, and closed the door behind him.

Kyla crossed her arms and rounded on her friend, Trevor Vaughn. "Thanks for the help, Trevor!"

He gave her an incredulous look and threw his hands to the ceiling. "What did you want me to do? Start screaming at him about how Winifred Hathaway is a giant b-"

Kyla's growl-like sigh overruled his last word. "She wrote the stupid thing at breakfast before class!" she yelled vehemently. "Obviously it wasn't that long. We couldn't have burned off two and a half feet from an essay that was only six inches long to begin with!"

"I wonder what our detention will be."

"Probably scooping Hippogriff dung _again_," Kyla groaned.

"Yeah," Trevor agreed, "it's either that or polishing trophies. None of the Professors here have any new ideas."

"Well, we'd better 'hurry up and go to class', like Longbottom ordered."

"Since when does he give orders?"

They continued talking about Longbottom's increased gumption on their way to potions class. Once there they headed for the Hufflepuff populated side of the room, where the other two of their group sat waiting for their professor to enter.

Despite coming from a family of nothing but Gryffindors, Kyla had ended up in Hufflepuff. It was no sweat off her back, she just took it in stride, and her mom and dad took it relatively well. She had three close friends in her house, all of them a little weird, like her. They were sort of like a club of misfits.

They all met through their most talkative friend, Patricia Warren. She was short and excitable with shoulder length blond hair that flipped in on one side and out on the other. Kyla could sympathize with her because her own hair had similar quirks: it too was shoulder length, only black and perpetually messy (the Potter family legacy efficiently passed down). Kyla was smaller than Tricia even, and probably the scrawniest girl in their year. She also had more freckles than all of third year combined.

Trevor was on the skinnier side as well. Average height for a boy his age, he was lean and freakishly flexible. He was taciturn in front of anyone other than his three friends and easily looked over with his dull rust-colored hair and an unremarkable visage.

Lamont Maynard Brillhart III, or "Monty", was the exact opposite. He was very large both vertically and horizontally for his age and had short cut brunet hair and clear blue eyes. While Trevor was eternally quiet, Monty was infinitely sad and/or afraid of something.

"Ohmigosh! What did he say?" asked the excitable Tricia. "He didn't really blame you, did he?" Monty opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't get a word in edgewise over the blond girl. "You have detention don't you? What do you have to do? Trophies again?"

"Okay, Trish," Kyla said, sitting, "you only have fifteen questions left, then _Twenty Questions_ is over."

"Well then, answer me quicker and I won't ask so many in a row."

"We have detention, but we don't know what it'll be until we see him after dinner. Quick enough?"

"Your dad was in the paper this morning," Monty finally got to say.

"What else is new?"

"He was found on a Murder scene," Monty whispered.

"What?"

3

"Alright, Miss Squires. Please tell me everything that happened last night," Harry said, trying to ignore the headache that lingered after the unique stunning spell he received the night before. It felt like having a bad hangover without the alcohol.

He was sitting in the interrogation half of the Viewing Box in the Ministry of Magic. Across from him, with puffy eyes and a tear stained wrinkled face, sat Briana Squires, daughter of the murdered old man. Harry could hardly imagine her as anyone's daughter at this point in her life. She was easily in her eighties and her straight hair probably hadn't been cut in about that many years. It was braided into a long silver whip, so long that it went down her shoulder to her lap and was wound about her right hand several times like a bandage.

Harry had been taken down by a punk, had a migraine the size of Great Briton, hadn't been able to sleep since being stunned, was now involved in a murder case, and to top it all off he couldn't find Agape anywhere. Even with all of these things weighing down his shoulders, he knew that Briana Squires was presently having a much harder time, and he was empathetic. In a split second she'd lost her father and only companion for many years now. He wanted to help her, but unfortunately that meant inconveniencing her with loads of questions instead of letting her pause in her grief to get a hold on her new fatherless world.

"I know this is very difficult, Miss Squires," Harry tried again, having gotten no answer out of her the first time. "I'm sure you have many things to think about, and plans to settle-"

"My siblings are planning the funeral so I wouldn't have to," she interrupted. "They want me to help you find the murderers as soon as possible... and I'm going to help you as best I can."

"I won't keep you long," Harry promised. "Please, tell me what you remember."

She nodded and began: "I went to visit my sister, Christabel, in Wick. Father was in his study all day I suppose, because that's the last place I left him and that's where we found him." She paused and looked at Harry, both shared a moment of familiarity about viewing the corpse slumped back in his chair. "I couldn't stay with Christabel very long because I had to get back to take care of him: he was blind from cataracts and had a very hard time getting around. I thought it strange when I came home and didn't hear any music. His hearing had always been good and he loved to play music all day long. So I went upstairs and found you unconscious in the hall right outside the study door. Needless to say, I was a bit surprised to find Harry Potter in my house, and I knew something must be wrong if you of all people were out cold on the floor. So I rushed into Father's study and found him... in his chair... well, you know. Then I called the Ministry and tried to wake you while I waited for them to come. Someone must have pulled a nasty piece of work on you, dear. I'm very good at rousing the stunned but you wouldn't even flutter an eyelash."

"Yes, it was an unusual hex that we're still looking into," he told her as his temples throbbed with every heartbeat. "You didn't seem very surprised that someone had killed your father. Why is that, if I might ask?"

Briana sighed wearily. "My father knew many things, Mr. Potter. He was a hundred-and-seventy-three-years-old. It's easier just to assume he knew everything by now."

Harry gawked at her momentarily. _That explains her age_, he thought.

"He knew many people," she continued, "and had many secrets that certain folks wouldn't want to let out."

"What kind of secrets? Do you know of any for example?"

"He had loads of visitors in and out of the Café all the time, that is until we were terrorized by the Optimates." She used their proper name instead of '_Neo Death Eaters_'. "He knew a lot about them. But he never would tell me."

"Did he know about the Blood Traitors?"

She looked up at him and slowly tilted her head to the side, as if analyzing him in a knew light. Just by looking at her carefully blank expression, Harry could tell she was about to lie. "He knew of them, yes. But I guess we'll never know how much he knew about them because he never told me anything."

Then and there, he knew he'd get nothing more from her about the Blood Traitors. He moved on:

"I hear your father was a good friend of Albus Dumbledore's."

"Oh, yes, he was," she said, her expression back to normal. "They were roommates at Hogwarts and colleagues during the fight against Grindelwald. He and my mother, his second wife, where there to lend assistance whenever Dumbledore needed during Voldemort's first uprising. He wasn't as much help in the second round because he'd lost his sight, but he helped in passing information. He was the Keeper of many a secret. We thought his days of fighting evil were over, but I suppose he knew evil wouldn't stop the war just for him – he ended up involved in these new messes too. He said that Dumbledore didn't stop until death, and he didn't intend to either."

Miss Squires cooperated fully during the rest of the interrogation and was very polite, even in her distress. Harry was infinitely grateful for someone who almost consistently told him the truth, or at least if she didn't it wasn't because she didn't want to. He couldn't refuse her request that he stop in for a few moments at the funeral. She thanked him earnestly, saying that her father would have wanted greatly to meet him.

"I can't believe someone in Dumbledore's year outlived him," Tonks said incredulously as she and Harry took a break in his office afterward. The currently red-haired forty-four-year-old was flipping through files about the Squires and their café as Harry downed a potion from St. Mungo's for his migraine. "Briana is Creighton's youngest child and she's ninety-eight."

"I was guessing eighty-five or so," Harry admitted miserably. He didn't feel much like small talk at the moment. "When did you say you last saw Agape?"

"Crocker saw her leaving around lunch time yesterday."

"Has anyone gone by her house?"

"I went myself this morning," Tonks admitted. "No one was home. Even her cat had been outside all night."

"I feel sick."

"It's hard to tell whether it's the rough stun or anxiety," she said, frowning. "We still haven't figured that blasted spell out. More like a hex than a spell isn't it? We need to know about one _that_ powerful."

"It must be new," Harry said.

"Why don't you go home for today. I'll handle things around here."

"Can't. I've got to find Agape, Tonks. You know I do. Besides, Ginny would throttle me if I came home without even looking for her myself."

"Fine. Then start looking. Either way you have the day off from the office. I'll be out to help you as soon as I possibly can." She rose from the chair across from Harry's desk and moved for the door. She was halfway through it when she stopped and whipped back around to face Harry with a look of recollection.

"I can't believe I almost forgot," she said, "Crocker saw something else yesterday. You mentioned that a black-haired civilian with dark clothes took your chart."

"Yes," he said, immediately sitting up.

"Crocker said Agape got into the lift with a man of the same description."

"What!"


	6. Chapter 6 Harry's Search

_Chapter Six_

_Harry's Search_

1

The next day, Harry kept his promise to Briana.

Creighton Squires's funeral was almost as crowded as Dumbledore's back in '96. The people were all dressed in black jackets and robes to fend off the bitter wind as they stood around the casket, but other than temperature it was sunny and bright outside. In comparison to the forlorn attendees, this beautiful December weather was being quite unreasonable when it came to paying respects.

Harry stood behind a few rows of people that made up the inner layers of guests crowded around the burial sight. Briana and her three sisters and four brothers each made speeches on their father's behalf, the guests listening soberly to each one. Harry couldn't pay attention. His headache had finally worn off and he had even gotten a few hours of sleep before work and the funeral, but he still couldn't keep his worries at bay.

As Briana – the youngest and last of Squires's children to speak – searched for words to sum up her father's considerably significant life, Harry glanced around the crowd. On his left was an elderly man (like most of the guests in sight). However, a very pale woman directly to the right caught his eye. Light skin, light hair. He was immediately reminded of the woman he'd stunned in the Squire's home, but he knew it wasn't her. This woman was older, in her late twenties, perhaps, and she was pale in a different sense: washed out, almost unhealthily pallid, as if drained of life. Her eyes were on the closed casket, unwavering and unblinking.

As the last words were being said by Briana, the pale woman spoke:

"It isn't right," she said softly but clearly. "None of this is right."

At first Harry wasn't sure if she was speaking to him or the other person beside her because she hadn't addressed anyone in particular. He didn't answer just in case she was merely thinking aloud.

"Was the body clean when you saw him, Mr. Potter," asked the woman, finally specifying who she was talking to, though her eyes were still trained on the casket as it was lowered into the ground. "They didn't... mark him up, did they?"

Harry's brow furrowed as he peered sideways at her and shook his head. "We think it was a Killing Curse." She must have read that he was on the murder scene in the _Daily Prophet_.

"If they had marked him up – if they had tortured him like they do most of their enemies, I don't know what I would do."

Her voice sounded familiar, he just couldn't put his finger on it. It was fluid and pleasant in spite of the words she said.

The casket was in the ground and the flock was dispersing. The woman turned to Harry. Out of politeness he didn't try sneak off with the crowd. Her eyes were a light sage green and their stare was intense. He hadn't noticed it before, but he could now see that her fair hair hung in gentle waves over her shoulders and very far down her back, so long that it reached past her rump. The length was really quite impressive.

"How do you keep from killing them when you find them, Mr. Potter?" she said. "How do you practice restraint when they attack the people you're protecting?"

"I remind myself that I'm above their methods," he told her. "I'd be stooping to their level if I killed them."

It was the woman's turn to frown as she looked back at the elderly Squires children huddled around the open grave of their father. "Sometimes," she said, "you have to crawl with the cockroaches in order to exterminate them, Mr. Potter."

He felt awkward talking ethics with this strange woman and was eager to change the subject. "How did you know Squires?"

"We were friends a long time ago," she answered. "I hadn't spoken to him in years, but he had always been very kind to me, despite my faults."

Everything about her was familiar to him in some way. He didn't know how, but for some reason she reminded him of the Ministry of Magic. The way she looked was like... he just couldn't put his finger on it. She had similar features to werewolves in human form – pallid, with darkness beneath the eyes – yet she definitely wasn't a werewolf.

"Creighton was an amazing man," she continued as he pondered this. "Even blind and nearly crippled, he never stopped working. Albus would have been proud to hear it. I wish I had seen both of them once more before their funerals. They were right about me always being late."

She then gave Harry a bitter smile and suddenly it all fell into place. Her canine teeth were exceptionally lengthy and her cheeks were sunken in emaciation. He saw something different in her eyes then, not only intensity, but years and years of worldly knowledge. The same look Dumbledore's eyes had held.

"You're a-"

"On the mark as usual, Mr. Potter," she interrupted. "Yes, I am a vampire. And now, I'm the last existing, if not living, student of Hogwarts's 1858 graduating class."

"How are you staying in the sunlight?"

"It's not very comfortable, but there are ways of protecting one's undead self." She held her left hand up for him to see a jeweled band on her ring finger. "The gems keep me safe. A gift from my late husband."

"Did you make him late?" Harry inquired, looking her over. The vampire merely smiled in a slightly bemused way. "Why, precisely, did you single me out today, Miss...?"

"You don't need to know my name. It's worthless now anyway. I singled you out because someone in the Ministry squealed. You have a leek."

"A leek," said Harry. "What do you mean? You know of someone passing information?"

She nodded once. "Yes. One of your Aurors was getting news about Optimates through Creighton. Whoever the leek is found out and reported to his boss. When we found this out, three of us immediately went to check on Creighton, only to find him murdered."

"Wait a second," Harry hissed angrily. "Are you part of the Blood Traitors too?"

"I am."

"Then exposing yourself to me wasn't such a good idea-"

"I could care less of your opinion of my colleagues, Mr. Potter, but you must be up to par on the facts," she cut in, her calm fluid tone still firmly in place. "We know your theory: you think that we murdered Creighton. I'm disgusted by the thought. You can thank the Optimates for the loss of one of the Order's and the Blood Traitors' closest allies."

"A vampire with morals," Harry seethed. "That's a first for me."

"I'm both surprised and disappointed by you Mr. Potter. Perhaps the Ministry has ruined you, but I would have thought, from your past experiences in life, that you had learned not be so prejudiced against people who are different... even those who are not all human. Like Mr. Lupin."

She nodded to someone standing behind Harry and he turned to find Remus frowning at him from a few feet away. Harry swore under his breath and hoped with all his might that Remus hadn't heard what he'd said. In order to make her escape, the Vampire had latched onto his blunder and used it against him at the worst possible moment. She walked past Harry and bowed her head politely to Remus – her fellow exile – before leaving them both behind.

"Remus, what are -" Harry blurted, but Remus interrupted him:

"Tonks asked if I would help you on your search, because something urgent was happening at the office. Some new lead on her case that she couldn't put off."

"What about _your_ office?"

"My only appointments are being seen to by my assistant. This is more important," Remus told him.

"Remus," Harry began again, "I don't know if you heard what I said to that Vam– er – woman, but I-"

"I did in fact, and I agree with her, whoever she is."

"You mean you don't know her?"

"Not all Vampires report to me, Harry. Some aren't even registered because they're so hard to catch. Only the ones with _morals_ or a court sentence see me each month."

Harry sighed. "Look. She's right. That was uncalled for, and I'm sorry. I'm just so damn frustrated."

Remus looked at him understandingly, even if he was annoyed. "Of course. That's why I'll be helping you find Agape. Do you know where she might have been heading before she disappeared?"

"Actually, I thought of some places she goes when she's looking for information. I know she was going to try to find some woman named Melencolia Snook a few days ago. She might have gone out to ask around."

"Where to first?"

2

"Okay, so maybe she wasn't looking for information on anyone," Harry sighed, running a hand through his black hair. They had gone to eight different places looking for a trail on Agape and none had yielded even a smidgen of promise. It seemed the last person to see her was Crocker from Harry's office.

"Maybe she was looking for a good Thai restaurant," Remus offered, jerking his thumb toward a sign advertising the menu of the Thai place they were walking past. "Didn't you say she was going for lunch?"

"I could go for lunch right about now. I'm starving," Harry groaned. "But I wouldn't be able to eat anyway."

"Are you sure we're not overlooking some place?"

"No, I'm not. She could have been doing anything. Lunch, research, shopping... confession. Who knows?" He was running out of ideas fast, and they were no closer to their goal. He stopped and leaned wearily against the bricks of an apartment building that backed up against the stores along the street. Remus stood silently next to him, giving him a chance to think, or just waiting for something to happen. An idea, a memory, any clue that might help them.

"I just remember that I was going to Hogwarts to see McGonagall..." Harry said, trailing off. "No, wait. I put it off for the next day, which is now yesterday. Maybe Agape went to see her in my stead."

"Quite possible," Remus agreed. "To Hogsmeade then?"

"I think it's our last hope."

So they Apparated a close as they could to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which was the formerly small town of Hogsmeade. When Harry was in school, it consisted mostly of the shops and inns that made up the center of town, surrounded by the village homes. The residential area had increased considerably in the years since. It still couldn't be considered a large town, and the new residents were just as strange, if not weirder, than the previous lot.

The two men walked toward the gates of Hogwarts, but just then, a thought hit Harry and he stopped.

"What is it, Harry?" Remus inquired.

"There's another place she could have gone!" Harry exclaimed, smacking his forehead with his palm. "I can't believe I forgot it! We hardly ever us it."

"Where?"

Harry couldn't remember the name, having only been there maybe three times. "That insane store with all the rare books," he said, hoping his friend would know what he was talking about.

"_Hawkins Hard to Find Books_?"

"Yes! That's it!"

"Follow me. We can check there first since its closer."

Remus had them there in less then ten minutes. They squeezed past the cramped spaces between shelves and display tables until they reached the back counter. Behind it they found a black haired youth with a crooked nose. He didn't look up as they approached, but flipped through a magazine instead.

"Hello, mates," he said in a humdrum tone. "What can I do for you?"

Harry leaned over the counter, saying, "You can answer a few questions."

The kid looked up with brow furrowed, but as soon as he saw Harry his eyes grew round as coins. "Merlin's Beard! I mean – uh – Hello, Sir. Questions, you said?" He caught sight of Remus too, and he relaxed ever so slightly. "Hi, Mr. Lupin. Doing alright?"

"Yes I am, Remy. And how are you?"

He eyed Harry as he answered: "Well, I'm guessing the boredom is about to end around here... Why do I need to answer questions? Did I do something wrong?"

"I should hope not," Remus replied in a reassuring voice. "We're just looking for someone."

"Have you seen my Assistant, Agape?" Harry demanded.

"Well, sure," Remy said hesitantly. "She was in here the day before yesterday. She wanted to use the Ledger."

"Day before yesterday?" said Harry.

"Yeah."

"And you haven't seen her since," Remus asked.

"No. She just came in, got the information she needed and left in a hurry."

"Who was she looking for?"

"Some foreign bloke... An Italian, I think."

"Show me," Harry ordered. Finally they were getting somewhere! Maybe this would lead to Agape.

Remy took them into the little room in the back where the enormous Ledger was stored. He opened it and poked at the various lists with his wand (_Nationality_, _Appearance_, _Height_, _Hair_, etc.) until he found a huge list of black haired, six-foot-tall men. Going down the list for a few minutes, he finally found who he was searching for.

"There's the git," said Remy, pointing to the face of an attractive man that Harry instantly recognized. "She was really happy to find him – for some reason – and then she dashed out of here as soon as she'd glanced at his profile."

Harry sat down in Remy's chair before the Ledger to read the profile of the man who had stolen his chart and stunned him the same day that Agape disappeared. His name was Roman Luciano, an Italian that immigrated to the UK from France about ten years ago. He was a criminal plain and simple...

"So, Mr. Lupin, how's Lenore?" Remy said to Remus, trying to make small talk in order to ease his nerves. He had been one of Remus's daughter's friends at school, but he hardly got to see her these days. "She like that Ministry job?"

Remus was staring intensely at the profile with an expression that Remy couldn't quite place. He soon realized Remy had asked him a questioned, however, and answered him. "She's doing great. I'll tell her you asked about her."

"Antonia, my girl friend, is in your wife's Divination class," Remy mentioned. "She says that Professor Lupin is the coolest teacher at Hogwarts."

"Well, it helps that she's an actual Seer," Remus admitted. "Not to speak badly of Professor Trelawny, of course."

Harry was reading over Luciano's profile much more thoroughly than Agape had. He read that the man was involved with the Ministry, passing them information on the Optimates. He even helped protect a young girl (Julissa R. Culver) from the Neo Death Eaters the summer before last. However, he was arrested just last year for breaking into Hogwarts and threatening the life of that same girl. He was hospitalized shortly, before being carted off to Azkaban where he escaped in the mass break out of 2016. Luciano seemed to get in and out of trouble fairly easily. And what kind of luck did you have to have to be freed from Azkaban before you could even be legally convicted in court?

Luciano hadn't been seen since then, but he was definitely considered a threat to anyone he came in contact with. Harry could vouch for that by the uniquely painful stunning hex the bloke had sent at him. He was curious about the girl who'd been endangered. Had Luciano really gotten close enough to threaten a student's life? His worries instantly shifted to his own daughter, Kyla.

"How do I search?" Harry demanded of Remy, interrupting the quiet conversation he was having with Remus.

The kid didn't say anything; he just flipped to the very front page of the ledger that was void of all lists. "Write it with your wand," he explained. "If you already know the name, it will flip straight to the page for you."

Remy and Remus watched as Harry spelled out the girl's name:

_Julissa R. Culver. _

Both of them became deathly silent then, which Harry was just thinking was a bit odd, when the Ledger landed on the page he was looking for. Culver had attended Hogwarts from 2009 to 2016. She accidentally got involved with the Optimates and was hunted by them when she was sixteen. Luciano helped in hiding her. He returned her to Britain for her last year at Howarts, but, for a reason untold, ended up trying to kill her early in the year. She dropped out four months before she graduated and was never seen after that.

In his hurry to read about her, he'd completely looked over her physical profile and the picture. When he saw it, he paused, studying it very carefully, not believing his eyes. It was her! The woman he'd stunned at Creighton Squire's murder scene. She looked different in her photo because her hair was lighter – bleached platinum actually – rather than the more natural color he'd seen. She also had dreadlocks in the picture, instead of the straight locks she had now. Still, it had to be her; the hair was the only difference. The face, the pasty skin, the spooky ice blue eyes. It couldn't be anyone else.

"Why are you looking at Jules's profile," Remy asked with a deep frown. He looked pale all of the sudden, and very uneasy.

Remus quickly spoke up. "Remy, perhaps you should wait outside..."

"Do you know everybody," Harry asked Remy incredulously.

"No, but I know her," Remy said. "How do _you_ know who she is?"

"Tell me about her," commanded the Auror. The more information he could get the better. He was solving two crimes at once after all.

Pink patches blossomed over Remy's face as his frown turned into a scowl. "You can read."

"Remy," Remus tried again, but Harry interrupted:

"How do you know her?"

"We went to school together," was all he would say.

"That's it? You haven't seen her recently?"

"Of course not," Remy snapped, sounding furious at this inquiry. "Why do you want to know about her?"

"Harry, please," Remus tried to intervene once more, but to no avail.

"I have reason to believe she was present at a murder scene," Harry told Remy. "If you know anything about her, I'd suggest you spill it."

Remus put a hand to his forehead and sighed resignedly, but Remy looked disgusted. "Is this some kind of sick joke?" he shouted, surprising Harry a bit. "Are you saying Jules was a murderer?"

"I can't say, but I recently saw her at a murder scene. Surely you've read the papers about the Squires murder?"

"What! That's not possible!"

"Why not?"

"Harry, this isn't exactly –"

"Because she'd dead, you git! Didn't you look at her dates?" The young man pointed angrily at Culver's profile, labeled: _Born 6 January, 1998 / Died 28 July, 2016_. "How could you have seen her if she's been dead for over a year?"

Harry's resolve waned for a moment, but something told him there was some kind of mistake. They had to be the same woman. He'd memorized her face as soon as he'd seen her standing in front of Squire's dead body. He knew he was right – had to be right...

"Tell me about her," Harry asked again. "Please. Anything."

"No!" Remy shouted, nearly in tears. "You can't just come in here and start interrogating me about my dead friend! Saying that she murdered someone! She would _never_ do that. She was like my sister. She'd never – Just get out! I want you out of here now!"

"Alright! That's it!" Remus broke in, finally getting their attention. He turned to Remy and placed a hand in his shoulder. "Remy, I'm sorry about all this. We'll leave. Come on, Harry."

Harry reluctantly followed his former mentor, figuring it wasn't fair to upset the kid any further.

Remy watched them go, trying to steady his breathing. Once they had left the room, he slammed the door and leaned his back flat against it for support. "Merlin's Beard," he muttered under his breath at the whole situation. "Holy crap! I just kicked Harry Potter out of Mr. Hawkins's store! I'm so fired..."

Still, he deserved it: talking about Jules when the grass on her grave still didn't quite match the rest of the grave yard yet. Remy would know, since he visited her just four days ago. He'd seen the bloody casket buried! She was dead. Gone. Finis. Even the amazing escape artist, Jules Culver, couldn't have escaped death...

...Right?

3

"Okay, Remus, spill it," Harry said once they were standing outside and walking again. "What do you know about Luciano and Culver?"

"I don't know much about Luciano at all, but I have met him," Remus replied, speaking calmly. "He helped the Ministry out a few times before he was sent to Azkaban. Last time I saw him, he broke my leg – just to give you an idea about him. However, I knew Julissa quite well. She was my daughter's best friend at Hogwarts... She was murdered a year and five months ago by an unknown Optimus. I went to the funeral. She is not who you saw, Harry."

"She has to be. Trust me she looks exactly –"

Remus interrupted him with a bit of reason: "Harry, can you honestly say you memorized her face in the few seconds before you were stunned? Jules did have a unique look, but I'm sure there are other women with similar features."

"Women that just happen to be around nineteen-years-old, platinum blond, and involved with Optimates affairs?" Harry countered with his own logic.

Remus paused, frowning at the ground. He could see Harry's point, but it disturbed him deeply. Jules had been a master at escaping sticky situations – but faking her own death?

Actually, it wasn't so far fetched the more he thought about it.

"But, what if it's someone acting like her? Impersonating her," he said finally.

"It's very possible," Harry agreed. "After all, we've seen it done plenty of times. Did you ever see her body after she died?"

"No," Remus replied, "it was a closed casket. The ministry said she was unrecognizable, but genetically Julissa Culver."

"It would almost have to be someone impersonating her then," Harry said. "Do you know of anyone who would want to be her?"

"I don't know about _wanting_ to be her, but if the Optimates were trying to scare the Blood Traitors, maybe..."

"Why would seeing her scare them?"

"From what I've gathered of the Blood Traitors, she helped in beginning the group. Her and I'm guessing Alton Drake and a few others," Remus explained.

"You learned this from Logan Bireley," Harry assumed aloud, still a little miffed about Remus not giving him Bireley's file.

"Some if it, yes. But, Harry, what about Agape? We can't forget about her. What did you gather from reading Luciano's profile?"

He was right, Agape was more important than the BT at the moment, but it was convenient timing on Remus's part: changing the subject just as Bireley and the Traitors came up again. Nonetheless, Harry answered the question.

"We know that someone saw her after Crocker that day," he said, "and that she went looking for information on Luciano after she got into the lift with him. Remy said that she left in a hurry after she read his profile..." and he trailed off.

"Where do you suppose she went?"

Harry recalled all the information he could from the profile and then asked himself, '_where would I go if I had just found out information about a Blood Traitor and/or Optimates?_' Probably to find him and arrest him... '_Okay, where would Agape go if she had just found information about a Blood Traitor and/or Optimates?_' Maybe to find more information? That sounded like her. Only where else would she go? None of her other haunts had seen her.

The solution, when it hit him at last, was simple and very Agape. She would get as close to Luciano as she possibly could without actually meeting him face to face, thus, going someplace where his character would be reflected. The best place for that would have to be his home. Harry's frown morphed into an excited grin when he realized he still remembered the address from the Ledger, which would have been the first thing Agape had looked for.

"Remus! I think she went to his apartment!" he exclaimed.

"Where's that?"

Harry told him the place, and they decided to split up for now. He would go to Hogwarts and talk to McGonagall about Julissa R. Culver, while Remus went to check out Luciano's home. Maybe they could find Agape _and_ the Blood Traitors before morning.

_(Author's note: Okay, I wrote this chapter twice. The first version was all about Agape with the Blood Traitors, but the whole thing just didn't seem right. I was taking out all of the mystery behind the BT. So I tucked that one away for my own personal reference and wrote this one with Harry searching for Agape with Remus. Maybe I'll print the first one some day as a short story. I'll try not to take so long on the next chapter!) _


	7. Chapter 7 49 Cinder Street

_Chapter Seven_

_49 Cinder Street_

1 

Remus stood outside of Luciano's flat. He wasn't exactly sure what he wanted to do. There was a light on inside, so should he take on the Auror roll and dramatically bust through the door, or knock like a sane person and see if Luciano answers? The old man sighed. He used to be better at this.

As he continued to stare pensively at the door, another, rather decrepit resident of the building shuffled out into the hall. When the elderly woman looked up and noticed him standing there, she gave him a suspicious eye. He greeted her politely.

"What can I do for ye, dear?" she inquired gruffly, as if she'd rather do nothing for him.

"Do you know if your neighbor here is home," Remus asked, gesturing to apartment 210.

"You from the Ministry?"

Remus assured her he was.

"That light 'as been on since day 'fore yesterday. It must be some kind o' security spell, 'cause a candle wouldn't 'ave lasted that long." She squinted at him as if to size him up. "Why didn' ye come sooner?"

"Sooner than when, Ma'am?"

"Day 'fore yesterday, you blokes were here, right? Lookin' fer Neos?" replied the old woman. "Could 'ave used someone intelligent lookin', like yerself, back then. The light's been there since the disturbance."

"Could you tell me a little something about this disturbance," Remus prompted. "It would really help me out."

"'Course, dear. It was the day 'fore yesterday..."

2 

"I hope that will help you, Mr. Potter," said Headmistress McGonagall. "But like I said, I haven't seen Miss Culver since the day before she ran away."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, "any information can help me at the moment. When did you say you last saw Luciano?"

"The night the Optimates broke into Azkaban," the ninety-two-year-old woman told him in a voice that had never lost the stern bite of her transfiguration days.

"The night he escaped," Harry muttered to himself. That would have been the same night he tried to kill Culver. "Well, I'll talk to you again soon, Professor. Thanks again."

The long walk back to the first floor gave Harry some time to think over everything McGonagall had told him and try to find something useful in the information. Once he had reached the first floor, he took a shortcut and entered a corridor full of knights. He paused when he noticed an old friend sitting in a wooden office chair next to a classroom.

"Hello, Neville," he greeted with a smile.

Professor Longbottom looked up from his copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and grinned back.

"Harry! What brings you back to your old stomping grounds?"

"I needed to talk with McGonagall," Harry explained. "What are you doing out here? You locked out, or do you just like sitting in the hall for some reason?"

"I'm overseeing a detention," Neville answered, almost awkwardly, as if this was a new thing for him. He gestured with his newspaper to a couple of students, each polishing a suit of armor on opposite walls. "You might recognize one of them..." His paper twitched toward the right side row of armor where a skinny black-haired girl was working.

"Oh, great," Harry muttered, recognizing his daughter, Kyla. "What now? She hasn't spit on another seventh year has she?"

"No, of course not – but I can assure you, the incident before with Miss Bledsoe was completely warranted."

"So what did she do?"

Neville sighed and answered his former classmate warily: "She was involved in a certain accident with another student's project and an open flame. The whole thing is quite a mess."

"Did she happen to bear a grudge against this particular student," Harry wondered aloud.

"Kyla and Miss Hathaway are not exactly close, to say the least."

"Neville," Harry said, tilting his head to the side in bewilderment as he observed the children, "What part of the knight are they supposed to be polishing?"

"All of it. Why?" Neville's eyes suddenly widened when he realized what Harry was looking at. "Oh, for Merlin's sake!" He leaned forward to rise from his seat.

Harry held up a hand to stop him getting up. "No, no. I handle this one."

He walked up to the kids as they polished. The boy noticed him coming and immediately started vigorously rubbing the cloth over the knight's shoes with his head bowed. Kyla was contentedly humming as she shined up the codpiece on her armor.

Harry cleared his throat. His daughter turned her freckled face up at him and her eyes grew a little bigger for a mere second before she covered her surprise with a huge smile.

"Dad! What are you doing here?" she said cheerfully. "I saw you in the paper. How come I have to get news from the _Daily Prophet_ before I get it from you?"

"Because the _Prophet_'s reporters happen to be half vulture," Harry answered dismissively. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," she said sweetly.

"Why are you only polishing the crotches on these knights?"

Without even cracking a grin, she calmly opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted when another professor entered the corridor. When the woman came into view, the tarnished empty bodies creaked shrilly as they covered their shiny privates with metal gloves. She paid them no mind. Instead she focused on Harry as she approached.

Her name was Professor Tundra Lupin, and he would recognize her unique features anywhere. They were the bony, or rather emaciated, angles of Remus's first and last true love. She had straight, layered hair that was naturally two-toned (brown with much lighter blond highlights). The eyes over her prominent cheekbones were large, long and violet colored and her lips were dark red (also natural). She had told him before that her odd hair and visage came from her rare, ancient lineage – the same lineage that granted her the powers of a Seer.

Harry still remembered the whole situation between her and Remus back when he was only eighteen. Remus was with Tonks at the time, when Tundra, an old classmate of Remus's, came to help in battling Voldemort. There was a renewed connection, a lot of tension, but eventually a mutual understanding and suddenly Remus was marrying Tundra while Tonks became second in command of half of the Ministry's law enforcement devisions. Both Remus and Tonks got what they wanted, it just wasn't with each other.

"Hello, Harry," Tundra greeted in a monotone voice, though she did give him a little smile. "Remus is on his way."

"Has he found anything?" Harry asked her anxiously, forgetting the conversation he was having with Kyla.

"I don't know. I only know he's coming here," she explained. Then she paused and stared blankly into the distance for a moment before recovering. She held a hand up to quell his inquiries about her wellbeing, saying: "Excuse me if I space out. It's been a very active day for Seeing."

"What kinds of things have you been seeing?"

She looked at him with a weary expression. "Everything you could imagine."

"Anything about who's going to win Quidditch this week?" Neville inquired with a grin as he approached behind her.

"Tundra, Harry," came Remus's voice from the other end of the corridor.

"Well," asked Harry immediately, "What did you find out? Could you get inside?"

Kyla and the other student paused to listen to the excitement that might become of this conversation.

"I didn't need to get inside," Remus told them. "No one was there and I don't think I would've found anything if I did. I talked to one of the other residents, and she told me there was some kind of disturbance outside the building the day 'fore – er – the day before yesterday. She said a tall, dark-haired woman fought off a group of hooded figures and that she and Luciano Disapparated soon after."

"Did he take her or did Agape go with him?"

"I asked the same thing, but the woman couldn't tell."

Tundra was just starting to ask, "Did you ask any of the other-" when, without warning, she went silent and suddenly seized Remus's shoulder to hold herself steady as she swayed. Remus held her by the arms and watched her carefully, but didn't seem too concerned as her eyes glazed over and she stared through him.

"Is she okay," Harry asked, taken aback by her arrest of speech.

"She's fine," Remus assured him, but he never took his eyes off of his wife's. "She's having a vision."

Harry had only seen this type of thing from Professor Trelawney in his third year, but Tundra wasn't talking, she only stared at something that wasn't there. It was a moment before she snapped out of it and her violet eyes focused on Remus.

"You okay," Remus asked, a frown line appearing between his brows.

Tundra didn't answer him, but looked at Harry and calmly said, "You can get your assistant back tonight, if you get there in time."

"Where, when and how?" Harry replied instantly.

"In Hogsmeade, right now, at 49 Cinder Street in the residential area. You'll need our help, and Neville's too, if you want to get past the Optimates."

Harry was already heading toward the entrance door, but Tundra called him back. "You'll never make it in time if you have to run to the gates before you can Disapparate. We'll use Floo powder and catch them by surprise."

"Where's the nearest Fireplace?" Remus said as they swiftly turned to go.

"Professor Cophin's office, just up here."

"Miss Potter, Mr. Vaughn," Neville hurriedly said to his students, "I want you to go back to your common room, now."

The young man silently nodded and Kyla began to say, "But -"

"Go now!" Neville snapped, uncharacteristically. Kyla went quiet.

Tundra lead them to McGonagall's old office at a run. Harry grabbed some Floo powder and flung it into the fire, shouting the address as he leapt over the hearth. He landed in a dark living room of 49 Cinder Street. The only light came from the flashes and sparks of spells being exchanged in the hallway. Remus, Tundra, and Neville came through the fireplace after him.

Tundra sighed with irritation, saying, "We're too late."

"What? No we're not! We can still get her. Where is she," Harry demanded.

"Upstairs," Tundra told him as she casually stunned a hooded man no one else had noticed in a black corner, "for now at least."

"Tell me everyone who you know is fighting," said Harry. "Optimates? Blood Traitors?"

"Both. Evenly matched for the most part. About ten each, I think. No one else from the Ministry," she added, answering his next question.

Harry's mission training was instinctively kicking in. "Alright, just help me get upstairs. We can deal with the others after we find Agape."

They entered the hall as a unit, shooting defensive spells out in every direction as they headed for the stairs. It was a chaotic blur of Latin phrases, multicolored lights and near misses. Harry hadn't been in such a dangerous situation in a long while. He was trained for this kind of action – the fearful rush, expecting the unexpected at every moment – and he had to admit to himself... he liked it. But there was no time to think about that now. He had mere seconds to find Agape before it was too late. The only question was: too late for what? Too late to find her, or something worse?

Harry froze a hooded figure who was shooting at someone on the stars. Remus got the one that came out from shadows of the same doorway to replace his comrade. As Tundra tugged Harry out of the path of a hex aimed at his back, Neville fended off a woman on the porch, who was shooting at them from around the molding of the open front door. The professor paused for a moment, as if noticing something odd, but there was an unexpected pop, like a small rocket going off, and their group was bathed in a white light that hung over their heads for a few seconds. After the flare-like spell faded, there were half as many spells being shot at them. Harry wondered what the heck was going on. He'd never seen this tactic before and he wasn't quite sure what it meant.

No time. No _time_! Agape was up the stairs and whoever was guarding the second story was no longer shooting at him, so he took the opportunity. He leapt up the first four steps to the landing where the stairs turned at a ninety degree angle. He found a man crouched there, with his wand aimed at the Optimates across the hall. Harry paid little attention to him and turned with the banister, skipping more steps as he rushed upward. It was Remus's voice behind him that made him slow and look back.

"Logan! What're you-"

"Get down, Remus!" said Logan Bireley, grabbing the older man's robes and pulling him down on the landing. Hexes shot at the wall above their heads.

Harry made a mental note to interrogate Bireley as soon as this was over – since now he had undeniable proof that the werewolf was a Blood Traitor. As he bounded up the last of the stairs, Remus stayed with Logan, Tundra was still in the middle of the hall defending herself without a problem, and Neville was running out of the front door with his wand at the ready.

Upstairs, all was still, at first. There were only three doors, so Harry quickly stalked to the nearest one. It was dark and empty, no sign of life inside. However, he soon heard the faintest rustling coming from another room. He silently made his way over to the doorway and took a beep breath before rushing inside with his wand held up. He was expecting a curse to come at him, not a sucker punch.

Harry aimed a hex at the offender, who went tumbling across the floor a few times before stopping himself. Harry crossed the room after him, holding his wand to the fellow's forehead as he tried to get up. As soon as he saw the mess of blood-red hair and those long, narrow eyes, he knew he was looking into the face of Alton Drake, despite the mask that covered his nose and mouth.

"Why the mask, Drake? You fighting with the Optimates now?" Harry asked, glaring at the Blood Traitor.

"No, I just think they have great fashion sense," Drake said, his eyes showing the smirk that his dragon hide mask covered.

Harry didn't have time for this. "Where's Agape," he demanded.

"She's already gone," Alton said in a slightly hoarse voice, pulling down the mask.

"Stop moving" Harry shouted, taking Drake aback. "Drop your wand! Now tell me were she is or I'll-"

"She's okay! You don't need to worry about her, Potter," Drake insisted, but Harry wouldn't have it.

"TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!" His wand spat out a few sparks at Drake's forehead, making him flinch.

"I can't," Drake replied in a strained but calm voice. "But she's safe. I know you think we're murderers and all – " a sudden pain shot up Harry's leg as Drake's heel collided with his shin in an impossibly flexible movement that knocked him backward - "but we're really not the violent type."

Drake leapt to his feet as Harry toppled to the floor with a cry of pain. Harry retaliated with a spell that was magically equivalent to a fierce blow to the gut. The younger man slumped against a dusty old cabinet by the wall, trying to hold himself upright. He found his wand on the floor and grabbed it, aiming it at Harry just as the Auror raised his as well.

They both shouted: "_Expelliarmus_!"

Drake's wand went soaring into the air away from him. Even Harry's jerked out of his grasp and hit the floor, despite his grip training – it was a credit to Drake's talent. Harry recovered his weapon and jumped up, just in time for a swift and breath-taking kick to the chest from his foe. He doubled over, reeling from the pain in his sternum – but he was an Auror, after all, and not even Drake's kung-fu-magic blend would daunt him.

Drake physically dodged Harry's defensive spells until he recovered his wand. He shot jinxes, hexes, and curses to no avail. He took swings, did back flips to avoid attacks, and used well-practiced martial arts, but none of this helped him for long. The simple truth of the matter was that poor Drake was beaten from the moment Harry walked in the room.

Soon, Harry had forced Drake to his knees with his arms held straight out to the sides where they would be constantly in view. Harry stood behind him with one hand pulling his head back by the hair and the other pressing a wand to his throat. Now it was time for the two men to have a calm chat...

"If you don't tell me where she is _right now_-"

"I can't, you bloody git! Don't you get that?" He tried a sudden movement to get away from Harry, but was jabbed in the curve of his spine with a hex that briefly lit the space between them.

"No more kung fu crap" Harry shouted. "You're going to stay put for once."

Harry saw the fury on Drake's shadowy, upturned face morph into horror when he realized he couldn't move his legs as they slid out from under him. The red-haired man swore loudly, a desperate gleam in his eyes.

"Now, keep your arms out straight and stay still," Harry commanded, "unless you want me to paralyze you from the neck down too."

Rage of defeat came over Alton's face, but he held his arms out at his sides as instructed. He scowled at Harry as if wishing the Auror would suddenly burst into flames. "I hate you," he seethed, teeth bared. "Don't you realize we're on _your_ side? I can't believe how blind you are!"

Harry was calm now that he was back in control of the situation, and it reflected in his voice as he replied: "Just because we both hate Neo Death Eaters, doesn't mean I should be on your side. Especially after you hit me."

"I wasn't going to let you arrest me!"

"Well, for future reference: punching an Auror in the face isn't the best way to avoid arrest."

Drake ignored his advise, and instead shouted: "Can't you see that we're helping you, you bloody tosser? When you fight us, it's like you're fighting yourself."

"You haven't been much help to the Ministry, my friend," Harry commented.

"We don't help the Ministry. You've got the whole lot thinking we're murderers!"

"You're constantly in our way, and then your buddy, Luciano, kidnapped Agape – "

"He saved her!"

"Then _why is she still missing_?"

"Because, moron, she's still in danger! Why do you think this place was crawling with Neos? They want to kill her! Of course, it's understandable that you haven't had time to notice. You must've been swamped, what with accusing us of bunk murder charges, and ruining our lives and all."

"If she's in danger, maybe you should've let the Ministry handle it," Harry replied, ignoring his ramblings. "We don't typically take targeted people into Optimates territory."

"Well, we like to bring her along as bait," said Drake sarcastically. "It's not like we planed this! We're keeping her safe – "

"As safe as Creighton Squires?" Harry asked viciously.

"You don't know anything," Alton snarled.

Harry noticed a smoky fragrance in the air that hadn't been there before. Was something burning in the room? There was no flame in the hearth. He checked to make sure Drake's shaking arms were still held outward and said, "I know this much: you better tell me some useful information – quickly – or I'll make your paralysis permanent." As a warning he moved his wand from his captive's neck to the space between his eyes.

"I'll give you useful information, you sart!" Drake spat vehemently. "Here's some: we didn't kill Mr. Squires."

Harry would have smirked at this comment, because he had seen it coming a mile away, but he was caught off guard by the thin cloud of smoke that billowed from Drake's mouth as he said it.

"What the h-"

Drake's brown eyes narrowed menacingly as his increasingly raspy voice growled, "Get that wand out of my face before I turn it into kindling."

"What?" stammered the Auror, taken aback by this new development.

"I was told not to torch you, but you're not leaving me much of a choice," Alton threatened, locking his eyes on Harry's.

"Torch?"

There was a sudden blur of movement from behind Harry and he was thrown backward onto the hard floor while pain seared across his throat. Warm liquid oozed from the pain, cooling as it traveled softly to the back of his neck to pool beneath him. It took a moment to comprehend what had just happened, but it all became clear when the fireplace was instantly ablaze and a thin woman with illuminated sage eyes and waxen skin looked down upon him.

"There will be no need, Alton," said the vampire from Squires's funeral. "Mr. Potter is probably a bit preoccupied with sealing the holes in his neck now."

Harry pressed a hand to the wound and tried to gurgle an obscenity at her while she casually wiped his blood from her long fingernails. Drake was pulling himself toward the fireplace using only his arms since his legs still refused to move. He had his wand back and he was eager to escape while he had the chance. Harry sat up, still holding his bleeding throat, and searched for his wand on the floor near him. Drake was already gone when the vampire bent down so that their faces were even. She certainly looked like the undead now that she was in her natural hazy lighting.

"I see you've learned to crawl with the cockroaches, Mr. Potter," she said in her cool, pretty voice. "Your assistant left you a gift in the other room, by the way."

Without warning, she looked up, startled, and was several feet away from him in the blink of an eye. Harry heard Remus's voice shouting something from the doorway and the vampire shrieked, clutching her stomach as blood seeped from her waxen lips. There was another blur of movement and she was gone.

Then Remus was crouching down beside him, asking "Is it deep?"

Harry could only sputter in reply.

Tundra lowered herself to the floor and gently removed Harry's hand from the gory slashes. The fresh air to his rendered flesh was like being stabbed with white-hot metal. Harry had had severe injuries before, but this one was a new feeling to him, and thus the panic was new as well. He desperately wanted to say, "Fix it! Fix it!" but he couldn't, so he settled for trying to keep calm. He couldn't keep from trembling, however. As the blood trickled out, it took his strength with him.

"Remus, sit behind him and hold his head back," Tundra instructed her husband. He did so and Harry gargled out a groan of pain. Tundra held her wand before him and closed her eyes, muttering a lengthy spell.

It felt like minuscule spiders were crawling around in his flesh, repairing the damage as they went and ebbing the pain. When the spell was done Harry took a gasp of the cold air and felt the now smooth area of his neck.

"Thank you," he said hoarsely to the Lupins.

"Don't talk much tonight. It'll be sore for a while," Tundra told him.

"Where's Neville," he had to ask.

"He's waiting for the Ministry to come and pack up the seven Neos we got," Remus replied. "Did you see Agape?"

Harry gingerly shook his head in the negative, whispering: "The vampire said she left me something in another room."

Remus helped him up so they could investigate. In the last room of the second floor, they discovered three unmasked Optimates tied together in the center of the floor, all slumped against each other unconscious. One had a battered visage, another had an enormous slash across the middle of his robes, and the third one looked to be missing some teeth.

"The last three," Tundra said aloud, confirming Harry's suspicion.

The man in the center had the ripped robes, which were open at the chest to reveal a wand written message on his bare skin:

_Don't say I never_

_gave you anything._

_Love, _

_A.E._

If Harry hadn't been so dejected at just missing her, he would have laughed out loud. She had managed to amaze him once again – only this time she had done part of _his_ job for him.

3 

After getting his throat checked out by a medi-wizard, Harry went home to Ginny feeling like he should have done more. He shouldn't have let his guard down. He especially shouldn't have let go of his wand when he was attacked from behind. They were rookie mistakes that probably prevented him from finding Agape. So much for the master Auror expecting the unexpected.

When he got home, Ginny was in the kitchen preparing a Howler to the captain of the Holyhead Harpies:

"BOADICEA GOES WHEN I SAY SHE GOES! I'M THE GENERAL MANAGER AND I EXPECT TO BE INFORMED OF ALL CONTRACT TERMINATIONS! I DON'T CARE WHO STARTED IT, SHE STAYS! SHE'S WON THE LAST FOUR GAMES, _IN CASE YOU HAVEN'T NOTICED_!"

And that was before the added volume of the Howler itself. The red-haired woman calmly folded the red envelope and sent it on its way via their trembling family owl.

"Tough day?" Harry asked.

"Not until I got home," replied the grumpy wife. "Can you believe Caroline tried to fire Boadicea Jernigan? They had a slap fight in the locker room after practice and now I'm supposed to sack our best player since Gwenog Jones!"

"You're gorgeous when your angry," Harry commented with a smirk. "Well, any emotion really."

Ginny leaned against this kitchen counter and put a hand on her well-formed hip. "You know, when the Harpies started calling me 'Mom' I didn't think I'd literally be taking on the role," she said, pretending to ignore his flattery – but he could see a tiny smile quirk her lips as she spoke and he knew she heard him. "Oh, and speaking of parental obligations," she continued as he sat down at the small kitchen table, "Kyla got another detention. It's the third one this month! They want me to come up for a parent/child meeting."

Harry slumped against the back of his chair and said, "I know. I saw her earlier tonight cleaning the codpieces on a row of armor."

She stared at him in disbelief. He had wondered what her reaction to Kyla's joke would be, and was slightly surprised to see that she was not amused in the slightest.

"You mean _you_ went to Hogwarts tonight, and they _still _want me to come in tomorrow to talk to them? Why didn't they just talk to you about it while you were there?"

Apparently, she hadn't heard the word 'codpieces' in his last sentence. Either that, or she just wasn't surprised at all by Kyla's sense of humor.

After a short rant on having to reschedule her lunch with the owner of the Holyhead Harpies, Ginny sighed and turned back to Harry, asking him if he had had any luck in his search for Agape.

Harry told her about his night and how he had come so close to getting Agape back. She sat in front of him, listening intently until he was done. "You think Drake was telling the truth? Do you think she's safe," Ginny asked, all other worries put aside.

It was Harry's turn to sigh. "I don't know. But it seems she's taking care of herself."

4 

Remus finally relinquished Logan Bireley's file to Harry via owl the next day. Now that they had both seen him fighting as a Blood Traitor, there was no real reason to keep his file confidential. Most of the information Harry already knew, thanks to Agape's previous digging, but now he had an address and a workplace to add to his list of knowledge.

Tonks's mission had gone sour as well, despite all of her strategies, and she personally apologized to Harry for having to send someone else to help him find Agape. She told him that she already had a team searching for her with all of the clues they'd gathered thus far, all of them ready to assist him at a moments notice.

Harry was grateful for the extra help, but he was still disgruntled about not getting to Agape the night before, even if they had picked up ten Optimates in the process. He decided he needed to take action again, and fast. He had solid information about one of the Blood Traitors and knew exactly where to find him. So that's where he went first, alone and determined.

Only twenty minutes after arriving at work, Harry had already left again and was standing outside a thrift shop of magically-damaged products down a back road in Hogsmeade, called the _Not-Quite-Right_ store. Once inside, he asked for Bireley. The elderly woman behind the counter hollered down into the basement:

"Logan! Get the boxes later – you have someone asking for you."

There was a shot pause where Bireley must have said something back to her, to which she replied:

"I don't know who it is! You know I can't see anymore."

"Tell him it's Harry Potter," Harry told her. '_Maybe he'll run and I'll have a bit of fun today after all_.'

"It's Harry Potter," yelled the old woman. Then, realizing what name had just crossed her lips, her eyes widened and she scurried into a back room, muttering, "Oh, my. I don't think so. I'm staying out of this mess…"

It wasn't long before Bireley bravely made an appearance behind the desk. Looking as if he were bracing himself for a violent blow, he said, "Can I help-"

"Yeah," Harry interrupted, "we need to talk. Is there a dark alley or a meat locker we can go to?"

The tired man's brow furrowed. "Will a moldy basement do?"

"Perfect."

_(Author's note: Well, I hope this chapter got the blood pumping a bit more. I added a small part for Ginny in this one and she'll be playing a big part in the next chapter too! Thank you for the review Eden Harper! I agree that we need to see more of her in the future.) _


	8. Chapter 8 A Woman's Intuition

_Chapter Eight_

_A Woman's Intuition_

1

Around the same time Harry was entering the _Not-Quite-Right_ store, Ginny was nearly ready to leave the house for the day. Hogwarts would be the first stop to attend a parent/student meeting with the Headmistress about Kyla. After that it was off to London for lunch with the owner of the Hollyhead Harpies. Both meetings could take up the whole day.

She looked herself over in the full length mirror that was attached to the back of her bedroom door with an adhesive charm. Being a somewhat public figure for her Quidditch team, Ginny closely appraised the outfit she had chosen. The white blouse beneath a fitted yellow sweater complemented the nice shape of her upper body, but she was concerned that the knee length beige skirt would _not_ do much to flatter her rather robust hips. Once again, she bitterly thanked her mother for that particular problem area of her body. Harry said they were 'voluptuous', but Ginny didn't think he knew the correct definition of the word.

She gave up and put on her heavy black robes and calf-cut boots to fight the cold outside. Everything now done, Ginny still had ten minutes before she needed to be at Hogwarts. She sat down on the living room couch and noticed Harry's file of notes on the Blood Traitors. Leaning forward to snatch it off of the coffee table, she flipped the yellow cover open and examined the contents. The first few pages of parchment were written in a feminine hand – obviously Agape's, since she did most of the note-taking – but the last three pages were all in Harry's untidy scribble.

There were entire leafs on specific people; like Alton Drake, for one. She read over the report on his interview, seeing side notes that Harry must have written later on in a different colored ink. Almost all were questions. Things like: _Why were A.D., F.T., and L.B. at the café right before the Optimates attack?_ and _Could a Muggle be involved?_ just below that. At the very bottom of the page evaluating Drake's interview was a note with an arrow pointing to the name Melencolia Snook. _Who is she?_

Apparently the woman had interrupted the interview and taken Drake away to be seen by a medi-wizard. Her name, as well at Thorpe's and Bireley's, were underlined. Ginny flipped through the next few leafs, copies of Drake's and Thorpe's records. She remembered that Remus had refused to give up Bireley's file, which Harry had complained about for days afterward. There were some handwritten blurbs about a Vampire, Luciano, and Culver, who Harry had researched the day before, and then one last page of nothing but questions and small charts that connected them all. Some where familiar: _Were the men with a Muggle woman?_ and _Who is Melencolia Snook?_

Ginny sighed to see so many unanswered queries in the case. No wonder Harry was getting frustrated.

She closed the yellow cover back over the loose pages of parchment and tossed it onto the coffee table. It hit the polished surface with a little too much force and some of the parchment fluttered off of the table top. She bent to pick them up and did her best to put them back in order so that Harry wouldn't have to later. His files were the only thing he'd learned to keep orderly and she didn't want to break him of the habit. When she was sliding the sheet full of questions back into the slot in the file cover, it bunched and refused to be inserted. She discovered the object blocking the way was a piece of stationary so short that she hadn't noticed it behind the flap before. She pulled it out with two fingers and found it was a note Agape had written when she still had the file within reach.

The words were scribbled down in a hurry and were a bit garbled, being in short hand.

_M.S. _

_Wfe of invstigtr._

_1 of th mst protected homes in UK. MOM hid prson thre once. Refuse to list addrss, or b srched. Smthng hddn inside. Case nvr pursued b/c of A.S. _

Ginny knew that MOM stood for the Ministry of Magic, and she wondered if M.S. was short for Melencolia Snook. If it was, had Harry even seen this paper? And who or what was A.S.?

The clock in the hall metallically proclaimed ten o'clock, so Ginny needed to be on her way. If she was late to the meeting at Hogwarts, it might carry over into her already tight lunch appointment with the owner of the Hollyhead Harpies.

2

Finally Harry had been able to corner one of the Blood Traitors. Recently it had been impossible, as his frequent futile visits to Garry Moore's office demonstrated, to catch any of the suspects' at a workplace. Maybe Augustus Schmitt could duck out of work for a few days to treat his "rather persistent pneumonia," as Moore (Schmitt's boss) had said; but it was a different matter for Logan Bireley. The few werewolves that could find a job had to work almost constantly to make enough money to live off of.

Logan Bireley's brunet hair was just as messy today as it had been when they first talked in Remus's waiting room, and he looked just as tired. A purpling bruise distinguished itself vividly on his square, unshaven jaw – a souvenir from last night's fight. Only a week ago, he had been very friendly and inquisitive about Harry, but now he merely observed the Auror with a calm, unfeeling gaze. Now he was caught and being faced with standing alone against the legendary Harry Potter.

"So, should I expect high-kicks to the chest from you as well," asked Harry, "maybe a suped-up stunning spell? Or perhaps you're more of a cut-throat, like your vampire friend."

"I should hope not," Bireley answered quietly.

"Good. Then, I'll just stick to asking questions."

Pausing for a moment to organize his thoughts, Harry looked around the basement that looked in dire need of an anti-molding charm. It really was a perfect place for an interrogation, he thought.

"You've been a werewolf for five years, Mr. Bireley?" asked Harry at last.

"Yes," Logan answered dispassionately.

Harry nodded. "I received your file today, and it mentioned you used to attend meetings for werewolves. Some sort of support group?"

"I thought you already had a file with my name on it when I first spoke to you," Logan commented.

Harry held back what he wanted to say about Logan never mentioning that he was the man Harry had been looking for. Instead he said, "That file was purely legal. Apparently, you received a warning never to go without taking your wolfsbane potion again unless you had the proper precautions. But you've changed the subject."

Logan exhaled a short breath. "Yes. I used to go to a support group for werewolves when I lived alone."

"Did they help?"

"Sure," Logan replied flatly.

"I'm guessing you made some friends there. Maybe a young girl with dark hair?" Harry said, referring to the girl he'd seen Logan with when they first talked.

Logan's face was void of expression but he said, "Are you really here to ask me questions about werewolf meetings?"

"I have no problem getting down to the nitty-gritty, if you'd like."

"By all means."

"Alright," Harry said, slowly pulling his wand from his robes and pointing it at the square jawed fellow. "Logan Bireley, I'm hear to arrest you if you don't tell me where Agape is right now."

Bireley's composure left him a bit as his eyes widened and his brow furrowed with unease. He couldn't have expected anything less from an Auror, but the threat was obviously disconcerting nevertheless.

"I'm guessing adding time in Azkaban to a werewolf's resume wouldn't look very good to the boss," Harry added.

3

Ginny entered Headmistress McGonagall's office and found everyone else had already arrived.

"Ah, Mrs. Potter," said McGonagall as Ginny sat down next to Kyla, "let me introduce you to everyone so that we can get started. This is Mrs. Angie Hathaway and her daughter, Helen."

A hefty woman, whose hips made Ginny's look trim and girlish, sat beside a not-so-pretty, but very spoiled looking little girl. She had a grip on her daughter's shoulders as if she feared the child was in danger of floating up to the ceiling at any moment. Neither of them made any acknowledgement that Ginny was in the room other than a quick scowl before turning toward McGonagall again.

The Headmistress went on with the introductions, "I believe you already know Trevor Vaughn – "

Trevor smiled shyly at Ginny before swiftly breaking eye contact.

" – and this is his guardian, Mrs. Melencolia Snook."

Ginny couldn't believe the name when she heard it. Hadn't she just read the same name in Harry's report on Alton Drake's interview? She stared at the woman, and tried to return her polite – if not warm – smile and nod.

But just as her mind filled with questions, McGonagall was calling their attentions to the matter at hand: What to do about the persistent feud going on between the children. However, Mrs. Hathaway soon opened her mouth, and it became about no body but her precious daughter and herself. For a while it was only McGonagall arguing with Mrs. Hathaway, trying to make her see sense. Ginny didn't see how it would help - the woman was a twit. Even Kyla got bored and started looking around at the portraits in the room.

In all this time, Ginny's mind drifted back to Mrs. Snook. She had a short opportunity to look the woman over more thoroughly while she wasn't paying attention. She was very old, as ancient as McGonagall probably, only even skinnier. Her expensive, dark purple robes were traditional but by no means unfashionable. She had an air of importance that didn't come off as snobbery, but as her greeting had demonstrated earlier, she certainly wasn't very warm.

Snook watched McGonagall's and Hathaway's spat with detachment as she sat beside trepid little Trevor, and Ginny found herself recalling the Headmistress's introduction.

_'Trevor Vaughn, and his guardian, Mrs. Melencolia Snook.'_

Guardian? Ginny knew that Trevor's parents had died, but she thought the Ministry had placed him with some relatives, not a guardian.

Another thought bothering her was this woman's connection with Alton Drake. Unless she just happened to be related to the man, the only other reason for her to rescue him from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was that she had connections with the Blood Traitors, just like Harry suspected.

Agape's scribbled note came to mind again:

_M.S. _

_Wfe of invstigtr._

_1 of th mst protected homes in UK. MOM hid prson thre once. Refuse to list addrss, or b srched. Smthng hddn inside. Case nvr pursued b/c of A.S. _

Ginny knew that she would have to talk to McGonagall as soon as this ridiculous meeting was over, but currently she had to start paying attention again.

The meeting went on for a while longer and was finally resolved in concluding that all three children would have one detention a week until they worked out their differences, or at least until they learned to ignore each other. Mrs. Hathaway didn't find this fair at all, but no one - not even her own daughter - seemed to care what she thought anymore.

The dumpy woman took her brat and stormed from the office, while Mrs. Snook said good bye to the Headmistress then walked out with Trevor. Ginny went just outside of the office door talk to her little girl.

"Kyla, I hope you understand everything the Headmistress said in there," Ginny said to her daughter. "I'm tired of getting letters saying that you got three detentions in one week. Especially ones that include the name Hathaway."

Kyla opened her mouth to protest again, but Ginny held up a hand to silence her.

"I know the little snot deserves it," she admitted, "but that doesn't mean you have to stoop to her level of stupidity. I know you're smarter than her, so act like it. No more of this, okay?"

Kyla sighed, weary of adult disapproval, and she replied with no little exasperation: "Okay, Mum."

"Good." Then Ginny started shooing the girl toward the moving staircase. "Now go on to lunch or where ever it is you're supposed to be right now."

"Lay off the affection will you, Mum," Kyla said sarcastically. "Sheesh."

Ginny instantly put on a dramatic mothering face complete with a silly pouting lip. She seized her daughter in a massive hug that her own mother had often given to her and her six brothers just before they left for Hogwarts. "Awwww! Kylakins, you know I wuv you!"

Kyla couldn't help but giggle at her mother's change in demeanor. Ginny let her go and grinned at her, saying, "I really do need you to go, though. I have to talk to Professor McGonagall about something for your dad."

"Will you tell me later?" Kyla asked, her curiosity peeked.

"If it works, I might."

She put a hand on top of Kyla's head and turned her back toward the staircase, but just as Kyla was going down with the steps, Ginny thought of something and called after her. "Kyla! Do you know if Trevor lives with Mrs. Snook?"

The stairs stopped curling down and reversed when Kyla turned back. "Yeah, he does."

"Do you know why?"

Kyla seemed to hesitate, as if not sure she should reveal how much knowledge she had. Eventually, she did respond, apparently figuring there was no reason for her mother not to know. "His last family was 'unsuitable.' They claimed to be related to his parents, but they were lying, so the Ministry let the Snooks take him."

Ginny paused in thought, a concerned look now firmly in place of the previously jovial expression.

"Mum?"

"Thanks, dear. I was just curious," the red head said quickly. "You can go. I'll see you at Kings Cross for Christmas holiday."

They went in opposite directions, and Ginny knocked on the Headmistress's door. McGonagall let her in again and she placed herself in front of the old woman's desk.

"How can I help you, Ginny?"

"I need to ask you something," Ginny told her. "How well do you know Mrs. Snook?"

McGonagall shifted to a more comfortable position in her chair and eyed Ginny with some suspicion. "Quite well, actually. Why do you ask?"

"I wondered if you knew anything about her relationship with the Ministry," Ginny said.

"So Harry can't even come speak to me himself?" said the old woman wryly. "He sent you to ask me more questions?"

"Harry didn't send me anywhere. But did he ask you about Snook yesterday?"

"No."

"Then I'm afraid he's missed something."

McGonagall's thinning brows rose with interest. "I'll help you however I can."

Ginny proceeded to inquire about everything McGonagall knew about the Snooks. When asked how she was acquainted the couple, the Headmistress responded:

"I knew them in school, actually. They're good people. I even vouched for them when they wanted to take care of Trevor Vaughn."

"Do you know why they wanted to take Trevor?" Ginny said.

"They felt they could protect him from the family he had been with, and raise him properly."

Ginny couldn't imagine having to 'properly' raise a boy as meek and taciturn as Trevor. He just hadn't had it in him to be a problem child from the start. Anyway, it was the word 'protect' that stood out to her.

"Didn't someone in the Ministry suspect his last family of being Death Eater supporters?" Ginny recalled.

"Yes," McGonagall answered, "and the Snooks have always disapproved of those kinds of people. In fact, that's why the Ministry took an interest in them, to answer your question before. Many years back, they needed a place to hide a man who had given away the locations of nearly thirty underground Death Eaters after Voldemort's first defeat. The Snooks are known for their acute paranoia, so their highly protected house was the ideal place to hide him at the time. But since then, they haven't opened their home up to the Ministry again."

"Why's that?" Ginny asked.

"Well, during that time, they _sympathized_ with the Ministry," McGonagall explained. "Even then, the Snooks held them at arms length. They've always had problems with figures of authority, and they made it clear to the Ministry that it was a one-time deal."

"Has the Ministry ever tried to search their house?" Ginny inquired, thinking of Agape's note again.

This seemed to affirm some inkling that McGonagall had been pondering about Ginny's questions. "Not very long ago, yes," she said. "It's not known why they wanted a look inside, but I suspect it's because they're curious about any place locked down as tightly as their own facilities. They wonder what the Snooks are hiding on that big forest reserve."

"Do_ you_ think they're hiding something, Professor?"

The old woman looked amused, as if at some fond memory. "I'm sure they are, but I doubt whether it would really concern the Ministry."

"Oh, I think you're wrong there," Ginny told her, the excitement of possibility gripping her suddenly. "Professor, I'm pretty sure that the Snooks haven't given the Ministry their exact address, but I'm guessing that the Headmistress of Hogwarts, a personal friend of Mrs. Snook, _would_ have it."

"No, Ginny," McGonagall said firmly. "I'm bound by law not to disclose the address, and I certainly can't have you trekking around that forest."

"I'm not interested in going there yet," Ginny assured her. "I just want to write a letter. You don't even have to give me the address - you can send it yourself."

4

"What more can I say," Bireley nearly shouted, as he watched Harry's wand inch ever closer to his face. "I told you I can't give you the location."

The werewolf had literally backed himself into one of the corners of the basement. He stood amongst a pile of boxes that Harry had shoved over – acting volatile and pushing things around was just one of the ways a law enforcer kept their target on their toes, and it was a constructive release for pent up frustrations toward an infuriating case. Like this one for instance.

One thing was for sure: Bireley was definitely on his toes now. Even if he had kept face pretty well so far, it was apparent that he had no idea what Harry's wand might do the next time the Auror opened his mouth.

"You know, Bireley," Harry growled as he nearly touched his wand to the man's nose, "my _patience_ is as thin as the membrane between your sinuses and your brain. Become useful or we'll test the limits of _both_."

"You've got to be kidding me," Logan said, a little desperation creeping into his voice.

"You want to find out?"

"No... I don't. I could try to take you to Agape."

Harry narrowed his eyes at him. "You can take me there?"

Logan started to nod, but stopped when the tip of his nose hit Harry's wand. "Yes," he said instead. "Just let me get in contact with them-"

"No," Harry snarled. "No getting in contact with anybody. Take me straight there. Now."

Logan bit his lip and hesitated until Harry motivated him with a spark from his wand. The werewolf flinched and finally relented. "Alright! I'll take you."

They used the only fireplace, which was in the owner's office, but it didn't matter since everyone in the building seemed to have fled with Logan's elderly coworker from before, so no one saw them.

Within minutes Harry was standing in a poorly lit room with modest furnishings. Someone's living room? Since there wasn't anyone inside, he cautiously moved around the couch and into the foyer just beyond the door frame, with Logan quietly following a few steps behind. The house was completely still, showing no signs of human life anywhere.

Peering around, he saw that a small bedroom and a minuscule kitchen were the only other rooms branching out from the foyer other than the living room and probably a bathroom. Harry didn't see any stair case, and he figured there wasn't one hidden anywhere, so if she were here he should be able to see her.

He turned a narrowed eye on Logan standing just within the living room and asked, "Where is she, Bireley?"

Logan's countenance showed only grim uneasiness as he moved closer to Harry to look into the other rooms. He said nothing, and Harry had a feeling he was holding his breath again.

"Well?" said the Auror, his patience wearing thin enough to see through.

Still Logan said nothing, but he swallowed hard as if preparing himself for a high-dive twenty feet up. Then he slowly reached his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket. Harry instinctively reached for his wand as well.

5

Not far away in a warmly lit room, a figure was slouched over a desk in peaceful slumber. The woman's head was resting amidst her folded arms and her bone-straight blond hair had draped around her face as she slept. Who knows how long she had been at the desk, working on an endless task that had finally won her over with pure exhaustion.

A young man silently entered the plain looking room and saw her there. He crossed the small office and walked around her desk to stand just behind her, putting his hands lightly on her shoulders.

The woman's eyes – a warm shade of brown – flew open in momentary surprise, but she relaxed when he bent down to gently kiss the back of her head. "You've got to stop pulling all-nighters, Jules," he said, as she straightened in her chair.

Glancing at her watch told her that her husband would want to have a few words with her when she got home. But she didn't have the energy to care about him. She was too tired for that. Instead, she aimed to wake herself up a bit by standing and stretching. When that didn't work, she simply gave in again and sat on her desk top, now facing the young man.

"All-nighters are a good thing, Ferris," she told him. "They mean progress."

"Was there progress this time," he inquired.

She smirked a little. "Oh, yes. But I'm going to let the Ministry handle their mistakes on their own."

Ferris Thorpe's blue-green eyes registered how impressed he was as he asked, "So you figured out who the leak was?"

"I did. He was the one that messed up that Auror woman's mission the other day."

"You mean Tonk's mission to arrest the Neos who blew up the Walnut Café?"

"The very same," Jules replied, nodding once. "I sent Tonks an anonymous tip for her to find this morning."

"Who was the leak?"

"Some git named Crocker."

He grinned proudly at her. Somehow he knew that he could never know how much she went through just to figure this bit of information out. Even though she hated the Ministry, she still did the right thing by telling them. Of course, it was also likely that she didn't feel she had the energy to catch the bugger herself, and that was why she would let them deal with it.

"If only you had worked this hard in school, Jules," he teased, moving closer to her and placing his hands on her knees as she perched in her desk.

"It wouldn't have helped anything," she told him.

Now that he was closer to her face, he noticed her eyes. "Jules," he said, "You're eyes are still brown."

"I forgot to take the charm off last night," she explained flatly. Then she took out her wand and pointed it at her face, her eyes crossing a little as she concentrated on it. A short flash later, her irises had changed back to their natural (and far too noticeable) clear blue color.

The charm on her hair seemed to being wearing off as they spoke. Ferris could see waves beginning to form in the straight locks. In about an hour her curls would firmly reassert themselves until tamed again.

Ferris kissed her briefly, and then wrapped his arms around her. She leaned against him, letting him support her tired body, and mind, for just a moment. The sun that was rising outside the only window in the room, enveloped them in light. The beams washed out his already dull blond hair, but it made hers glow almost white. They stayed there, undisturbed in the sunlight, until:

"Jules, Ferris," said a woman's voice from the door, which Ferris had left open.

They looked around to see a pudgy woman wearing Muggle brand name clothes and too much eye makeup peering in at them with urgency apparent all over her face.

"Sorry, but Logan just called me. Apparently Potter is giving him a hard time," she said.

"Potter is at the _Not-Quite-Right_ store?" Ferris asked.

"No, he and Logan are in the safe house."

"What!" Jules and Ferris cried in chorus. Jules ripped open a drawer in her desk and snatched her mobile phone from inside. Four missed calls. Flipping it open she found that three were from Alton and one was from Logan. She cursed her stupid idea to put her phone away while she worked. She should have at least taken it off of vibrate.

"Celeste, what about Alton?" Ferris asked the plump young woman, his brow furrowed. "Isn't he there?"

"No. Agape isn't there either," the woman said hurriedly, "That's why Potter is so mad."

Jules swore vehemently. "Are we all loosing our minds?" she fumed. "Why would he take Potter there without trying to call someone first?"

"Maybe he did," Ferris opted as he headed for the hall. "My, mobile has been in my room all morning. And who knows where Roman and Gus are."

"Yeah, and I just got to the office a few minutes ago," Celeste added. "I already missed two calls from Alton. But both of them must have been in a hurry, because they didn't leave any messages."

Jules swore again and rushed out after Ferris, Celeste on her heels. Ferris summoned his mobile from his room as they passed it, catching the small thing deftly and pocketing it.

"You don't think the Optimates finally found them, do you," Celeste asked, looking scared.

"No. They could never get inside the forest reserve," Jules told her. "But I'd love to know the reason why Alt would take her out of the safe house." She and Ferris stopped at the nearest fireplace and Jules whirled on Celeste.

"Call everyone. Make sure to get Roman and Gus. We'll need all the help we can find to handle Potter. "

Ferris was sucked up the fireplace with a whirl and Jules quickly followed as Celeste sprinted down the hall to the basement which was the Blood Traitors' office.

6

Two people sat in the Potions section of the magical half of Schuler Memorial Library. This part of the building was located behind the Muggle front via a magical doorway in a broom closet. Sir Schuler, a Muggle, had been married to a witch and she had designed the library to accommodate both worlds in his honor. Of course the Muggle's had no idea. The set up allowed folks both Magical and Nonmagical to read or research in peace.

However, the two people aforementioned, a man and a woman, were not reading the books they had snatched from the shelves before sitting down. They were using Schuler Memorial for a much different purpose: a safe rendezvous to meet a good friend.

"Maybe she had a hard time finding Hubby," said a ridiculously red haired man with a dragon hide mask secured over his mouth and nose.

"She'll be here," Agape told him. "Let's just wait a little longer."

"She's probably gathering the entire Ministry of Magic to back her up," he said as he propped up his chin on loosely curled knuckles. "Maybe when they arrest me, I can punch that Moore bloke in the conk this time."

"Alton, I told you I won't let them arrest you," Agape assured him. "A deal is a deal."

"Yeah, I'm just thinking that they won't see it that way. So if she does bring anyone with her, I'm going to have to leave."

Agape smiled warmly at him. "Thank you, Alton," she said. "I know you're risking a lot to do this for me."

He grinned beneath his mask. "Don't worry. Jules won't kill me. She'll just skin me and use me for one of her stylish new handbags."

"I meant you're risking being discovered by the Optimates," Agape said, rolling her eyes at his comment.

"Them? They're _nothing_ compared to the wrath of Julissa Culver. She had this whole thing planned to a tee, and now I've messed it all up."

"Did you really leave them a note on the door?"

"Well I couldn't very well tell them when no one is answering their mobile, could I?"

"I suppose you could have told Mel at her house," Agape suggested.

Alton cocked one of his thin eyebrows. "Didn't think of that."


	9. Chapter 9 Of Aurors and Vigilantes

_Chapter Nine_

_Of Aurors and Vigilantes_

1 

_EEERRRT!_

The over turned table scraped against the floor as another spell hit it's top, which was now being used to shield Logan Bireley from Harry's spells. Logan had his back against the underside of the small table with his feet pressed flat on the kitchen wall, his legs bracing for every impact.

Harry was having a nearly one sided conversation with him from behind the kitchen door, where he leaned casually against the wall of the foyer.

"You see," he was saying loudly enough for Logan to hear, "I'd like to know what made you people think you could get away with meddling in Ministry affairs. Even if you thought you were doing the right thing, didn't you consider that you might be interfering with something bigger going on?"

Logan hadn't said much before now - he was simply too concerned with not getting blasted - but this time he replied. "So what's the Order of the Phoenix been doing all these years? Sitting back and allowing the Ministry to take care of everything?"

Harry didn't like his response very much, and sent another jet from his wand at the table top.

_EEERRRT!_

Logan winced as the table screeched closer to the wall and compressed his knees ever closer to his chest.

"The Order _is_ that 'something bigger', Bireley," Harry told him, irritated. "And don't compare your group to the Order of the Phoenix. You people don't even know what you're doing yet."

He shot yet another spell at Logan's table and heard the werewolf grunt with the effort of keeping the object from crushing him.

"You're insane!" Logan shouted.

"I'm not insane," Harry replied. "I'm just pissed off. You know I'll stop shooting if you just give up your wand and come out."

"Right," Logan scoffed. "I just bet you'd stop shooting."

"Hey, you're the one who blew your chance," said Harry. "I gave you the option of walking away without being in chains, and you say you'll take me to Agape. Then you take me here - which is most definitely not were Agape is - and I can't even open the door or break a window to leave after you pull you wand on me."

"I told you I _didn't pull my wand on you_!" Logan insisted furiously. "And the reason you can't leave is because this is our safe house! You have to be one of us or know the password!"

"Oh, really?" Harry looked over his shoulder at the front door for a second before turning back to Logan behind the table. "So what's the password?"

"_Sicuro_," said an unfamiliar man's voice from the living room. The front door gently unlatched and opened slightly.

Harry jerked his wand toward the new arrival and saw that it was Roman Luciano, fresh out of the fireplace and ready to hit him with another overzealous stunning spell. Not far behind, Augustus Schmitt – Garry Moore's assistant – dropped out of the fireplace as well, nervously extending his wand outward in defense. Logan craned his head to the side and back to see over the side of his shield.

"Logan," Roman called, peering around the house with his wand still trained on Harry.

"I'm here," he answered. The werewolf stood up cautiously at first, but seeing that Harry was preoccupied, he moved to join Roman and Augustus.

"I'm not going to let you stun me again, Luciano," Harry warned the black-haired man.

Roman never answered because the front door was pushed open from the outside and two more people stepped in with wands at the ready. The first to come inside was a young blond fellow. Harry recognized the son of this mother's friend, Ferris Thorpe. Behind Thorpe came a woman with cold blue eyes and pale blond hair wearing silver winter robes.

This had to be the infamous Julissa Culver.

While Roman, Ferris, and Logan looked either edgy or very tense – and Schmitt looked down right near an anxiety attack – Miss Culver stood calmly before him, appearing very business-like. Before she could say anything, Harry spoke up.

"Are you the real Julissa Culver?"

"Well, technically, that's not my name anymore, and legally I'm dead," she told him dryly, "but I guess I'm who you're looking for."

"Where's Agape?" he demanded.

"I wish I knew."

2 

Earlier that day Ginny had persuaded McGonagall to send her old friend, Melencolia Snook a letter. They passed it through the fireplace to save time, which is where Mrs. Snook found it when she arrived home. The letter read:

_Dear Melencolia, _

_It seems you and Kermit have gotten yourselves involved with Ministry affairs once again. As I have recently been informed, not only is Harry Potter curious about the interruption you caused during one of his interviews, but now his wife, Ginny Potter, is convinced that you know the whereabouts of Agape Eishorbgy. I'm sure you have seen that name in the papers by now. Miss Eishorbgy was kidnapped a week ago and the Ministry is very concerned for her well being. I informed Mrs. Potter that you would never aid a kidnapping even under the most extraordinary circumstances, but she still insists that you might have some knowledge as to where she might be due, to your obvious connection to the Blood Traitors._

_If it is currently within your power to contact Agape Eishorbgy, please pass this letter on to her. Mrs. Potter would like to speak with her as soon as possible to make sure she is quite alright. If this cannot be arranged, I'll be forced to remind you how much I disagree with keeping her wellbeing from the Ministry. You know that the secrecy of your abode would certainly be jeopardized if the Ministry becomes more involved. Hogwarts would be the first place they would come looking for your address, as I'm sure I don't need to tell you. I would hate for them to bully me for it, so perhaps you should consider your best interests, and those of your wards'._

_Mrs. Potter and I are anxiously awaiting your reply._

_Your old friend,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

Of course, upon receiving the letter, Melencolia took her friend's advice. She was even amused at their bravado.

Mere minutes later, Ginny and McGonagall received her reply in a small drawstring bag accompanied by a Muggle mobile phone. Ginny had ripped open the letter and read out loud:

_Dear Minerva and Ginny,_

_I'm afraid I cannot arrange any meetings between you and Agape. I'll have to leave it up to her. Dial the number I've written down and a young man will answer. If you ask for Agape, I doubt he would protest. However, if he does, I suggest letting Minerva speak to him. She should be able to handle him just fine._

_Sincerely,_

_Melencolia Snook_

Ginny had looked at the Headmistress for a moment, then she hurriedly snatched up the phone and dialed the given number. Even if she wasn't very familiar with mobiles, Muggle Studies and living with Arthur Weasley had given her enough knowledge to work it with ease.

Now she was bounding into Schuler Memorial Library and through the broom closet to get to the Magical half. She tried not to look too anxious or in a hurry but she wanted to meet Agape in the arranged section (Potions) as soon as possible. She only wished she could have found Harry – but when Harry's assistant was the one she was going to find, she supposed there was no one else in the office to pass along the message to him.

She zoomed by Magical Literature and Social Sciences and finally found Potions. She saw no one there, and was afraid that maybe Agape hadn't been able to get away after all. She walked the length of the isle, turned the corner and found that the section jackknifed into a V shape, at the mouth of which was a single study table. Agape and a man with ridiculously red dyed hair sat there half concealed behind large Potion Encyclopedias.

Agape saw her and leapt up from her chair, letting the heavy volume fall with a baritone thud against the table top. Ginny grinned hugely and ran to meet her in the middle where they embraced like sisters.

3 

"I think there has been a major misunderstanding, Mr. Potter," Augustus Schmitt said, lowering his wand and stepping forward. He was at least six feet, three inches, with rusty brown hair and square glasses set upon the bridge of his rather large nose. He was pale and trembling – definitely not cut out for the vigilante business – but at least he was trying to be civil to his fellow Ministry worker.

Harry still eyed the three people who had wands up. "I think that is a huge understatement, Mr. Schmitt," he replied coldly. "How is your pneumonia, by the way?"

Gus looked sheepish as he said, "much better, thank you…"

Then from the doorway, came a woman's voice with a light French accent: "Sorry to interrupt the fun and games,"

A young woman with the emaciated figure of a fashion model and rich golden hair swaggered up the front steps of the safe house, shielding her eyes from the bright sun. She carried a snobbish air and looked very uncomfortable about something until she stepped inside the building.

A girl of maybe sixteen – if that – came running up behind her and entered as well. It was the same black haired girl from Remus's office. She really was one of them and that was why Logan left with her.

"Celeste tells me we have a problem," the model said to Jules. "Alton called."

"What did he say?" asked Jules. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, softening her hardened expression of determination.

Harry perked up too. Maybe he could find out what happened to Agape. Had she gotten away by chance?

"Celeste said he's in a bit of a bind," the French woman answered casually. "He says he, Agape and Mrs. Potter are having a hard time fending off some Optimates. Celeste _ordered_ me to come and get you since I was on my way to help them."

They all looked at Harry and shock had come over his face. "My Mrs. Potter? Where are they?"

"It's some library in London. Shew-lair or something," the woman said.

"Schuler Memorial Library," the younger girl corrected.

It was at this point that the Auror and the Blood Traitors regarded each other – a moment that would define their relationship from then on. With their fellow, Harry's wife, and a woman that was almost a second daughter to him being threatened by a common enemy, they were forced to come to some kind of an agreement.

"I can't Disapparate here, can I," Harry inquired, wondering if he could just leave them there and go help his wife.

"No. We'll have to use the fireplace," Jules told him. "Hopefully they're still there." She suddenly flew further into her role as leader of the group, and Harry found it hard to argue until he was off of their territory.

"Roman," she barked suddenly, "where do you think they would go? Odin's island?"

Luciano shook his head. "No, not if they expected an Auror to come after them. There are other places they can go."

"I'm sure Ginny and Agape will keep them at bay for a while," Harry commented.

"And Alton won't be taken back to one of those places without a fight," Ferris agreed.

Culver's determination deepened. "Yes, we may have time. I don't see how we have much of a choice here, Mr. Potter. It looks as though we'll be working together for a while. We certainly have no time to argue."

Harry nodded grimly in acceptance.

"We'll head to Schuler first," Jules instructed her group firmly. "Keep your heads down if you spot any Hit-wizards or Aurors. Showing up in a group will make us pretty obvious. Roman, if it turns out the Optimates have already gone, you lead the way."

The Italian nodded. "Yvette," he addressed the model-like woman, "You should get Ima – we'll definitely need her."

"I've already contacted her," the model said smoothly. "She'll probably beat us there."

"Good, she can update us. Let's go," Jules said. She turned toward the living room and the fireplace, but stopped short, realizing something. She spun on her heal to face Logan.

"Is tonight the full moon?"

"Yes!" the small black haired girl answered for him. "Celeste asked if she should come."

"We can really use her help," Jules responded. "Go back and get her to the library through the fireplace."

The girl rushed back out of the door and Jules called after her: "Syd! Make sure her gun is loaded."

Harry gave her a questioning look and asked, "A gun?"

"There are some of us that utilize Muggle technology more than others," she told him flatly. Then she was going back toward the fireplace, and the rest of the Blood Traitors followed suit.

4 

Meanwhile, the other people at Schuler Memorial Library were ducking for cover and fearing for their lives as menacing figures in black hooded robes infiltrated the building through a conference room on the second floor, where the only fireplace was located. A very tall figure, obviously a man, was leading the body.

He hung back and let the other disguised figures do most of the work, but he seemed to be keeping a watchful eye on the scene from his vantage point on one of the study tables out in the open. It was impossible to see any part of his face – even his eyes were shielded by shadow. When his black visage looked toward a light in the room, the torch did nothing to hint at his features. It was just as black as if he were standing in an unlit cell. But his head turned and watched every move his minions made as they flooded the isles, searching for three individuals.

Said trio were currently hiding behind the staircase.

"Stunning worked on one bloke," Alton was saying, pointing over his shoulder at a closet where they had shoved an unconscious Neo. "I think we could snipe the rest. We could have 'em all waiting for the Aurors to pick up."

"Don't be ridiculous, Drake," Ginny snapped impatiently. "They'd kill us all before we'd get away with that."

Agape agreed. "Ginny and I are close to Harry, and you're a Blood Traitor," she said to Alton. "They'd have no qualms about offing us."

Alton frowned, and after a moment he corrected them. "I don't think so. I think they're aiming to take us alive."

He looked very disturbed at the thought. Agape knew now what he had really gone through when the Optimates had captured him the year before. The horrors he'd seen and experienced there were the reason he'd joined the Blood Traitors.

"Well, we can't just let them terrorize these people," Ginny said, "We have to get out there and help. Hiding won't do anyone any good."

"But we don't want to be captured either. You can imagine what kind of position that would put Harry in," Agape reasoned. "No to mention putting all of the Blood Traitors at risk as well."

There was a terrified shriek from the Librarian's desk and a flash of red sparks. The hulking, black-faced man in charge turned toward the noise on his table and muttered orders that only the Optimates seemed to hear. Several of the masked people immediately changed course in their search or moved toward exits to stand guard.

Ginny rounded on Alton and Agape, which was an accomplishment in the close quarters of the crawl space. "I can't do this. We have to fight back. We can't just keep hiding back here until they find us."

"Uh… I don't remember agreeing to play hide the Mudblood from the Death Eaters," Alton replied. "I don't intend to sit back her all day, you know. I just haven't thought of a way to go out their and live yet."

"Exactly," Agape insisted with some indignation, "I work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Auror or not, I was trained for this."

Alton suddenly perked up and he turned to Agape excitedly. "I could torch them," he offered.

The dark haired woman frowned and shook her head.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," she told him. "You don't want to set the building on fire."

"We need to lead them away from civilians," Ginny said. "If we can get to an exit, then get their attention at the last minute, they'll follow us out of here."

They all twisted around in their hiding space when they heard a rasping nasally voice say: "Just like you _blood traitors_. Always hiding and looking for an escape."

It was a thin Optimus with a slightly hunched back. He stood over them beside the stairs with his wand trained on them. "You're all such cowards," he added, narrowing young black eyes.

"And yet _you're_ the ones hiding your faces," Alton pointed out.

Without warning, there was an amazingly fast movement and Alton had kicked the young man's legs out from under him. The hooded fellow hit the floor in a heap, but he shot a spell just as he landed. Alton was thrown against the wall next to the closet they had locked the first Optimus in. His face contorted in agony and he clutched something invisible in front of his stomach as if a great stake were slowly piercing his middle, keeping him pressed to the wall.

In between cries of pain he rasped, "Go! Get out!"

The now royally pissed off women left the crawl space, but ignored his orders and pointed their wands at the Neo. All three fired at once; Ginny put a soundproof plate over the man's mouth so he couldn't call the attention of his peers, Agape bound his feet with heavy chains, and the Optimus closed Ginny's airways.

The redhead choked then was silent because absolutely no air was coming or going through her lungs. The man shot a jet of sparks at her that blew her against the stairs' railing before she hit the floor, struggling.

Agape lunged toward her friend to rescue her when searing pain ripped down her back. Blood spattered the railing as her scream caught in her throat.

"_Agape_!" Alton shouted.

The faceless leader of the Optimates suddenly turned toward the staircase. He couldn't see what was going on behind it, but he lifted one arm and pointed in that direction, like the Reaper marking its next victim. His followers silently executed his command.

The Optimus rose from the floor and stood over them as his chains wouldn't let him walk closer without falling. He used his wand to lift Agape into the air and hurl her at a shelf of books, his command silenced by the plate over his lips. The bookshelf collapsed with a tremendous crash. He finally had a chance to remove his chains and the silencer.

"Idiots," he hissed. "If you're not willing to us dark magic, you should at least come up with a better defense."

THWACK!

The Neo's eyes flew wide open as he pitched forward and went face first into the floor. Ginny was standing behind him with a huge book raised at her side like a Beater's Quidditch bat. Her lips were blue and her eyes were swiftly glazing over. Staggering and swaying badly, she glanced around her feet desperately.

"Behind you! It's behind you," Alton yelled, the pain rising sharply in his diaphragm. "Get it quick!"

Ginny whirled and snatched up her wand from the floor, pointed it at her throat and lifted the hex. She gasped and fell to her knees, trying to recover. As oxygen flooded her senses, she silently looked through a dizzy haze at Alton still pinned to the wall, loosing his ability to breathe with every second of constant pressure.

Panting and well aware of the sound of the other Optimates approaching, Ginny rushed over to Alton.

"Get Agape," he gasped. "Take her out of here."

She paid him no mind, but concentrated on the familiar curse. She'd seen the original Death Eaters use it, and it could crush a person to death if not taken care of. She did a reverse spell that was a bit like unscrewing a giant bolt. Alton soon fell forward and started panting as much as she was.

"You know – I didn't get myself caught – for you not to escape," he gasped.

"I have to get Agape," Ginny said. "The rest of them are coming, so be ready."

He nodded and stayed on the floor, guarding the fallen Neo, while she ran over to the toppled bookshelf. Agape lay at its base, in pain but moving. Ginny wished she had more time to wrap her bleeding back, but she could only get her to her feet and help her walk over the books spread about pell-mell, some of which had Agape's blood on them.

However, they couldn't move fast enough. By the time Ginny had lead her friend to where Alton was still recouping on the floor, they were surrounded by what seemed like an enormous black shadow. Ginny and Alton raised their wands, but the Optimates had already pounced.

5 

For the second time in two days, Harry found himself arriving on the scene a minute too late. He and the Blood Traitors had sneaked into Schuler Memorial through the single fireplace in the conference room to discover not a large group of Neo Death Eaters, but a crowd of Ministry officials. Several of Harry's fellow Aurors were there, heading the investigation of why the Optimates had attack such a benign target. Two of them were talking about the absence of their higher level comrades not far away, while Harry listened from the open hallway on the second story. He decided to stay out of sight for now, lest he should be called to help them with the situation. He had bigger things to handle.

"I would've thought Tonks would be all over this one," said a gray-haired older fellow named Neeley.

"She's got her hands full with Crocker," replied a tall Scottish woman named Betts.

Harry stayed out of sight, but kept listening. He wondered what foolish thing Crocker had done now that could keep Tonks from an investigation.

Apparently Neeley was thinking the same thing, because he gave Betts a questioning look.

"Ye mean ye huvnae heard?" she asked, her eyes huge with surprise. "Tonks got a tip this mornin' tha' Crocker has been passin' information t'the Neos. So she went tae see him right after – asked him a few questions, so she did. He got fair jittery an' slipped up. Now she an' Kinglsey are askin' the bastirt jist how much he's been givin' awa'."

Harry was shocked. Crocker a spy? He'd always thought of the man as bit of an idiot, but never a traitor. He'd worked together with Crocker for the last four years and had never known him to act strangely or suspicious. Could Betts's information be correct, or was it merely a rumor?

Culver and Thorpe were positioned just to Harry's right behind the banister of the open second story hallway beside the staircase. They gave each other a side glance that told Harry they knew more about this than he did. Of course, that Vampire woman had told him someone in the Ministry was a leak. Perhaps they had left Tonks the tip. Harry just hoped it was genuine.

These thoughts were pushed out of his head by the appearance of the sage-eyed vampire herself – the one that had slit his throat. She climbed the stairs from the ground level, apparently unnoticed by the Ministry officials, to join the rest of the Blood Traitors on the second floor.

"What did you find, Imogene?" Luciano asked her from his crouched position against the wall left of the stairs. She settled lightly onto the floor before him and held out a wand.

Eyeing Harry, she said in her cool voice, "It's not Alton's so I'm guessing it must be one of the women's."

Harry knew it was Agape's. It certainly wasn't Ginny's. When he told them who it belonged to Roman took it from the woman's pale fingers and tossed it across the mouth of the stairs to Jules, who in turn passed it over Ferris to Harry.

"You can give it back to her when we find them," Jules said.

"The victims said that a tall, frightening man gave the Optimates orders," Imogene told them.

"How tall?" Jules asked immediately.

"Very tall and strong."

"Did it sound like Dante," Jules persisted.

The vampire nodded.

Harry noticed a dark look pass over Ferris's face at the mention of this name. The Auror wondered how they knew the name of one of the Optimates when the terrorist group only went by codenames.

But then Roman spoke again, this time to the head of the group. "We need to go now. It's obvious they've already been taken away from here."

Culver nodded silently and lifted the sleeve of her right arm, exposing a long, narrow holster strapped to her forearm, which she slid her wand into before rising to a crouch to swiftly cross the stair mouth. Ferris followed close behind.

Harry watched as Roman and Ferris also holstered their wands beneath their sleeves and moved deeper into the enclosed part of the hallway that couldn't be seen by the Aurors below. He went with them back toward the conference room.

A short ways down the hall, Logan, Gus, and the model-like woman called Yvette waited. They had hung back as instructed between their only escape and the stairs to keep an eye on things in both directions. Culver silently gestured and they too put their wands away and moved in behind her.

Harry was steadily growing more and more impressed by their organization and skill. It was strange coming from such a young group of people – most of them just fresh out of school – and he wondered where they had received any formal mission training. Perhaps Schmitt had helped them with it… or maybe the Optimates had taught Luciano a thing or two about formation.

When they had last left the sizable conference room, no one had been guarding the fireplace. Now it seemed the young girl they called Syd had indeed gathered Celeste (who Harry hoped was the last of their number) and brought her to help. Celeste was a hefty woman of twenty with mousy brown hair and a lot of eye makeup on. She was the only one of the Blood Traitors who wasn't carrying a wand; instead she held a Raven handgun. Harry eyed the Saturday night special as she put it away at her hip just before they left. It turned out he and Agape had been right in assuming the rumors about a Muggle being part of the BT was correct. And if the fact that a nonmagical person was fighting dark wizards wasn't bad enough, Harry had a very bad feeling that she was possibly the only Muggle werewolf alive today. Otherwise why would they need her during the full moon?

This time Roman gathered them together and gave a few orders. He informed them that Alton and the others had to have been taken to one of three locations. However because the heard that Dante was involved they could basically count on a single structure in particular. They would have to go by Floo network to a town near the location, then Apparate and walk the rest of the way.

It would be dark soon, and once the moon had risen, the werewolves and the vampire would be at their greatest advantage.


	10. Chapter 10 Dante's Wrath

_Chapter Ten_

_Dante's Wrath_

1

Harry and the Blood Traitors had gotten through the nearby town unnoticed. Afterward they had Apparated as far as they could go in the forest to save time. Now they walked.

"He wouldn't set traps in here would he?" Ferris inquired.

"There's no guarantee," Roman replied darkly. "Some of the Optimates say he's even less sane than Odin"

"And twice as paranoid," Jules muttered.

Harry recognized the name Odin. He knew of several Aurors under direct orders from Kingsley who'd gone under ground solely to listen for that name on the lips of Optimates. Any rumor or sentence said about the man was related back to Kingsley and Kingsley alone. Odin could possibly be the leader of all of the new Death Eaters in Britain.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry's attention was redirected toward the timid voice that called him. Sydney – or Syd as her teammates called her – had sidled up to him.

"The sun is going down pretty quickly, so I wanted to ask you something before I can't speak English anymore," said the young girl.

She seemed a little shy talking to him, but determined all the same. Harry marveled that they would even let her join this group, being so young and seemingly timorous.

"Okay," he said.

"Could you please not tell Mr. Lupin that I'm a Blood Traitor?"

The words spilled out of her mouth in a jumble, but he got the point. His only response was an arched eyebrow.

She explained: "It's just that he'd be cross that I lied to him, and he'll say it's the reason I dropped out of Beauxbaton. He'd probably try to get me to leave the group."

"How old are you?" Harry asked, trying not to sound too incredulous when he said it.

"I'll be seventeen on the thirtieth," Sydney answered.

"So don't let him find out until then," Harry suggested, "He can't say anything about it once you're of age… But I didn't tell you that, Remus would kill me." He was actually a bit surprised at himself for not telling her that Remus would have every right to tell a school girl she couldn't go out and battle dark wizards – but of course that coming from Harry's mouth would have been a bit hypocritical, even though his situation had been completely different. Evil was evil, and fighting it at whatever age was inevitable at some point.

"Are you the youngest?" he asked her suddenly.

"I'm the youngest official member," said Syd.

"Really? Then how old is that blond girl?" He gestured to Yvette a little ways up in the march, and it was she who answered.

Turning back to look at him, she said, "I'm twenty-seven, _Monsieur_ Potter."

"Oh. I was going to ask if you were seventeen."

Yvette positively beamed at this. "It'll be wonderful when I'm a hundred years old and people are still asking if I'm seventeen."

"Of course," said Imogene, the green-eyed vampire, "you will look more like a vampire as the years go on, Dear."

"That explains a few things," Harry muttered.

"Imogene is my maker," Yvette told him. "She saved me from my old life."

"You mean being undead is better than your life was before?"

"Infinitely. And had you seen me before, _Monsieur_, you would have agreed."

Harry looked away from them, sighed deeply, and peered past the dark tree trunks into more darkness. The sun had slipped below the horizon and storm clouds had risen from the distance to replace it. They'd be lucky if the full moon showed up at all tonight. He wished they could get to this place quicker, but they could no longer Apparate and running there would make too much noise, thus attracting the Optimates' attention too soon. At least they weren't lost; Luciano seemed to know where he was going.

Harry put the werewolves and the vampires behind him and walked up next to Culver, Luciano, and Schmitt.

"How far are we?" he asked.

To his relief, Roman replied: "Very close. But we should stop speaking unless it's necessary."

The others were instantly silent.

"We're approaching the building now," Jules said.

Sure enough, as Harry peered ahead again, he could just make out the shape of a two story building through a thickening fog that came only from the direction they were heading. _A cloaking charm_, Harry thought, _to hide guards around the building_.

It certainly didn't seem like anyone was hiding in anxious sentinel, waiting for them. Even Harry, the trained Auror, didn't sense anything. It was like the whole place was dead but for the constant fog that settled churlishly over them with every step they advanced.

2

The light seared Agape's eyes as her blindfold was ripped away from her face. She was in a brightly lit room with old hospital beds shoved against the walls to either side. Her wrists and ankles were bound by rope and like the disused beds she'd been pushed against one of the walls, Ginny to her left and Alton to her right.

Ginny had used several biting epithets toward her captors as she was roughly escorted into the room, but Alton had stayed so silent that Agape hadn't even been sure if he was with them until she heard them throw him to the floor beside her. She eyed the small man now, as he was the veteran of their current situation, but she didn't find any encouragement there – Alton's unmasked jaw was rigidly set and he stared at the door at the end of the wing with a kind of determined resignation. She could tell he didn't expect to make it out of another Optimates lair alive.

Tears leapt to Agape's eyes because she felt the same hopelessness, but she choked back her fearful emotions and turned toward Ginny instead. The red haired woman was looking back at her and mirroring the other emotion Agape was feeling: the shear will to live if only to spite the scum holding them there.

The six hooded figures that had dragged them in the wing now stood on either side of the room along the rows of discarded beds. Each had a wand in his hand but none of them spoke. Among them, Agape recognized the young man with the hunched back.

She thought briefly about spitting on him, despite what he might do to her, but she didn't think she could project her saliva that far. Instead, she settled for imagining him being ripped limb from limb by some large bat. At least it kept her mind off of the fear that tugged fiercely at the part of her brain in charge of the fight or flight reflex.

However, the doors at the end of the ward opened with a shrill squeak and she immediately focused on the new terrifying figure loping toward them. Agape's wrists surged against the binding ropes and she desperately wished she could fight or fly at that very moment. He was huge, and covered in black. His hood seemed to hook protectively over his face, concealing it from the light in the room. Agape got the horrifying impression that he was the only shadow in the ward, as if he were dragging the other shadows with him and manipulating them, casting them menacingly over his three prisoners.

He was a faceless, soulless void of a being that would drag and manipulate them like he did the darkness.

The figure paused and stood over them. If Agape had glanced at her companions, she would have seen Ginny glaring and preparing for the worst while Alton's expression never changed except the recognition in his eyes. Agape's eyes had widened with an irrepressible fear that made her breath quicken.

"I'm pleased to find you conscious, if not unharmed," said the figure in a very deep voice. It was impossible to tell who he was looking at, but he was standing directly in front of Agape and she was the bloodiest. Her back still ached terribly from the gash that ran from her left shoulder blade to the base of her spine. Hitting the bookshelf hadn't helped either.

"I was concerned that you would be of little use to me after these six escorted you here," the man continued in a cavernous voice that brought the Grim Reaper to mind. "Of course, I was just lucky to catch the three of you out in the open without your usual protection. When my employer and I heard about your movements, we felt it would be best if I snatched you up while I could. Of course, Mrs. Potter was a pleasantly unexpected guest. I could scarcely believe my fortune – and to capture all of you! Well, it simply worked out perfectly."

The hooded void that was his head turned ever so slightly to Alton on Agape's right and made a sluggish sweep over to Ginny, taking them all in like he was inhaling the delicious aroma of his favorite meal. Agape could only stare, but Ginny was less inclined to be silent.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "Odin?"

"No. I work for him," he said, the opening of the hood pointed toward the redhead. "I am Dante." The hood inclined ever so slightly in a polite bow.

"What exactly did you plan on doing with us once you'd caught us?" Ginny asked hotly. Her tone may have been sharp and challenging, but ineffective in hiding her unease.

"Even that! There!" cried the huge man, making a movement toward her in excitement. "That question is precisely what I hoped you would ask! Every piece is firmly falling into place. And since you've made me so happy, Mrs. Potter, I'll answer you."

Dante's hood suddenly swiveled on Alton. "Mr. Drake, I think it would be best for you to go first," he said. "You know, I heard about how well you stood up to torture when Odin wanted information on your family and friends. I had already started working for him in his laboratory. In fact, I perfected the Dragon Lungs spell – you should know a lot about that one. You were the first subject to survive, because I suggested we should transform nearly all of your vital organs instead of just the lungs. That way, your body would be less likely to reject the changes. I suppose you could say I gave you your finest weapon."

Alton was staring hard at the wall opposite him, not looking at Dante. Ginny peered at him questioningly, but Agape was growing more and more concerned by his abnormal silence.

Dante proceeded: "We never made another one like you, Mr. Drake. The transformation was too volatile, none of the recruits have volunteered for it. However, I do have a few people for you to meet, since you'll be becoming very close to them soon. They are others that have undergone some improvements for battle. I believe you've already met Fero earlier today, but perhaps you should have a better look at him"

He gestured toward the hunched Optimus, who stepped forward. The young man pulled off his hood and robes, revealing a pale, lean chest and what looked like a second leathery cloak for a moment. Then, Agape realized they were actually very large and long wings bunched up over his shoulders and across his neck. The lump on his back had been the folded wings that now snapped out and extended into a looming position. Agape gasped and held in the breath, unable to believe the sight. The wings were enormously wide and they reached a good foot above his head where a bat-like talon crowned their highest joint.

Agape's vision of the man being attacked by a huge bat transformed into an image of him attacking her by similar means.

"You gave up on bird's wings, then?" Alton said gravely, speaking for the first time since arriving.

"That was also my idea. Your cell neighbor lost all of his feathers just before he died, yes?" He didn't wait for Alton to reply before he continued. "The bat wings worked out much better, I think."

Alton regarded Fero grimly. Fero glowered back at him from over his Neo mask, which was still in place.

"But you must meet the rest! It is their first debut, and they're most impressive," Dante held out his hand toward two more of the five remaining Optimates. These two, another young man and a young woman, stepped up.

"This is Enyo," said Dante. "She is her own shield – both physically and magically."

The woman rolled up her sleeves to reveal her forearms. She made fists and the flesh on her arms instantly turned shiny and metallic. The metal didn't seem to limit her movement – it flexed just as her flesh would have when she bent her elbows to show it off more properly.

Dante nodded to the man beside Enyo, saying, "And this is Tiburon. I'll let him explain his new gift to you."

With that, Tiburon pulled off his hood and his eyes grinned maliciously at them over his mask. Suddenly his mouth opened monstrously wide, surpassing the width of his mask. A thick, slippery pink tongue slithered underneath it only to pull back inside and take the fabric with it, revealing razor sharp teeth that resembled a shark's. His massive jaw clamped shut again and he chewed; part of the mask stuck out between his lips and was severed by his incredibly sharp teeth to flutter to the floor. After swallowing, his evil smile spread hugely, sending an uneasy shiver up Agape's aching spine.

"You, Mr. Drake, are going to serve the purpose of giving my Militis Optime a worthy practice fight," Dante told Alton, referring to the three frightening mutations before them. Then he nodded to them and the two young men came forward to seize either of Altons shoulders and drag him toward the door.

"No! Alton!" Agape cried desperately.

Alton merely watched the distance grow between him and the women with a steely resolution.

"Don't worry, Miss Esh-orby," Dante said to her, mispronouncing her name, "you'll join him soon. I have a special new spell to test out on you."

Then Alton's face flew up to look into her terrified expression and he started yelling. "NO! You can't do that!" He struggled violently against the two Optimates holding him. They only latched onto his arms more firmly and continued to pull him out into the hall. "You can't do that to her! Agape! Don't let them! Fight them! Don't let them do – "

Then the door was slammed by Enyo as she walked out and Alton's shouts were only muffled noises.

Agape couldn't help the tears stinging her cheeks now. She heard Ginny yelling too, but she didn't comprehend what she was saying. Two of the three Neos remaining took hold of her arms in vice grips before pulling her backwards out of the ward like Alton. She and Ginny watched helplessly as they were separated.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Potter," said Dante, ignoring the redhead's frantic cries as she struggled against her ropes, "you'll be the least likely to help her, I'm afraid. You see, the swiftest and hardest blow to your bothersome husband is to not give him the chance to save you. I'll be personally escorting you to your execution."

Ginny's eyes widened in surprise and she jerked her head up to look at him. This was the last thing Agape saw before the ward door slammed shut after her feet had slid through.

"Ginny! GINNY!"

3

The building made Harry think about deterioration. It wasn't just the crumbling bricks that its walls were made of – it was something he could actually feel. There was something inherently wrong with this place.

It had two stories and many windows with wrought iron bars covering every one. The roof was flat, as far as Harry could tell. There was a cellar with two chained doors on the building's west flank, which could certainly be hiding the three hostages, but that might be too obvious a place to put them. On the same side stood a long metal tube protruding from the building that dropped diagonally toward the earth like a playground slide. It was centered on the wall, leading from the second story in a sweeping, rusted trunk braced by rods towards the ground where it made a gradual curve over the dead grass before ending abruptly. He'd never seen anything like it before, and he studied it for a long time.

What in the name of Merlin's Beard was this place?

To his right, Harry noticed two wooden posts, one with half a sign still attached, and the other broken off about a foot from the ground. What little was left of the sign was still relatively legible but badly rotted. Harry could just make out the faded, broken legend it bore:

-NAN

-IATRIC HOSPITAL

"What kind of hospital was this?" Harry inquired.

"The psychiatric kind," Jules replied.

Ignoring the chill that surged through him, Harry looked back at the building with a frown, searching for weaknesses he could tackle. However, Roman and Gus had turned to Jules – they all had, as if it was just the natural thing to do, waiting for a nineteen-year-old girl to give the orders. Harry had to admit he was interested in whether or not she was a competent leader, but now was not the time for studying her. At the moment he was more concerned with getting_ himself_ into the building, with or without the BT.

"Roman, how many times have you been here?" Jules demanded.

"Enough times to know that the twenty odd Optimates Dante has with him aren't enough to guard the outside," said the Italian. "Inside is a different story."

"How many would it take?"

"About twelve."

Augustus looked incredulous. "So few? How?"

"We're talking about Dante, Gus," Jules reminded him. "But if he has around twenty men, like Imogene overheard, that means he's got at least eight more people than he needs…"

Harry had stealthily moved away from them to the big tube protruding from the bricks. It was a great deal rusted at each joint where sections of metal had been bolted together and the mouth was filled with the same fog and blackness that now girdled the entire location. It was roughly the size of a large person lying prostrate. This realization sent a chill up Harry's spine for some reason. It was obvious to him now that the tube was an old fire escape. The iron bars would have prevented escape through one of the windows, but why would patients need to be shoved down a tube rather than running down a ladder if threatened by a fire? Being insane didn't normally affect mobility.

He was distracted by the Blood Traitors moving his way. Apparently they had also realized the shoot would probably be the easiest place to sneak in. Julissa was speaking in a hushed voice to her group, giving orders.

"Alright, Yvette, you heard the woman," Imogene was saying as they neared the shoot. "The poor humans can't get into the building by themselves, and they're in desperate need of Half-breeds."

"How convenient they have so many at hand," Yvette replied with an amused smirk. "Does the fire shoot look promising to you, Sister?"

"Perfect, just as Roman suggested."

Before Harry could protest with a warning about what spells might be laid upon the shoot, the two vampires moved away so quickly that none of the humans could see their progress. There was a pregnant silence, but soon enough, a soft thud resounded at the top of the shoot and a steady swish followed. The bodies of two Optimates slid out of the tube and landed unconscious at the feet of Harry and the Blood Traitors. Gus strangled a cry of repulsion and moved a few paces back.

The two men were unmasked and painful looking boils jutted up from their insensible faces. On each man's throat there were two tiny puncture wounds that oozed rivulets of blood.

"Relax, Gus dear," Imogene said, suddenly back among them. "They just got caught in their little heat hex at the opening. The blistering will die down eventually."

The Vampires must have been moving too fast for the spell to affect them as it should, Harry reasoned. However, Gus seemed more concerned with something else:

"But you bit them!" he cried, like a true law-abiding-do-gooder.

"We only drank a few drops to keep up our strength," came Yvette's delicate accent from just behind Schmitt. She appeared at his right and wrapped a flirtatious yet comforting arm about his shoulders, which were a high reach even for her tall frame. "Roman told us long ago that we're not to kill people."

"Even scum like this," Imogene added, narrowing her eyes at the fallen Neos.

_Dumbledore's friend, the Vampire with morals,_ Harry thought sarcastically.

"There's no way inside from there," Imogene continued. "It's just a long empty hallway with no doors. I suppose you'd need a password if you wanted to make one appear."

"Oh, I almost forgot," Yvette said, casually turning to Jules, "You may want to go up to the roof instead of inside. Those two were talking about something big happening up there before we attacked them. It was something that has to do with Monsieur Potter."

"Ginny," Harry breathed, his stomach clenching. He scanned the roof, urgently searching for a way up.

Jules cursed angrily at Yvette, and Imogene frowned at her sister Vampire, saying, "Perhaps you should have said something sooner, Yvette."

"Get up there, quick," Roman told Jules, but she was already beside Harry, also trying to find a way up.

Finally Harry got and idea and aimed his wand for the sky. A rope shot out of it, which he stopped as soon as it had reached the ledge of the roof before finishing it at the bottom and cutting it off. The rope held itself suspended in the air as if it were being held up by some invisible hand – a hand that was strong enough to hold a lot of weight. He began to climb, Jules and Ferris following after.

As the other Blood Traitors queued around the rope to climb, Gus suddenly seized Roman's shoulder. "What are you going to do, Roman," he inquired. "If they find one of their own working with us –"

"I know," came Roman's frustrated reply. "I'll see what I can do for a distraction."

Harry never saw him disappear into the fog below, he was too focused to care what the others did now. Terrible images of what might happen to his wife slashed violently into his thoughts and he desperately tried to fight them back, tried to concentrate on getting to her.

He _had_ to get to Ginny. She was everything at that moment.

4

'_Harry, I wish you were here_,' Ginny thought, her lip trembling slightly. Even if he could do nothing to save her, she would feel stronger with him near. And at least she could have said goodbye.

She wished she could say goodbye to Kyla as well. She urgently desired to tell her family she loved them one last time – tell each of them that they meant more to her than anything else in the world.

She would have liked almost as much to take some of these masked men down with her. However, her ability to fight back had been taken away when they had bonded her wrists behind her back and stolen her wand. She couldn't just rush them and clobber them. They'd only kill her sooner.

Said men had deposited her at one corner of the roof, where she had struggled until she was in a standing position, watching the two of them resolutely as they stood between her and the door leading back into the building. The only thing behind her was the ledge – about two feet higher than the flatness of the roof. Beyond that was just another form of death… open air two stories above the ground.

Dante started talking: "We don't have time for a torturous execution, Mrs. Potter. So I've decided to kill you quickly and dismember you afterwards. I thought I might try a fourteenth century Muggle tradition and quarter you. I'll send your parts to the four corners of Britain and put your head on a pike to be displayed on London Bridge. That should stir up some excitement."

Ginny was hardly listening. She looked over her shoulder at the trees nearest the roof. They were too far away to jump into, plus she couldn't very well grab hold of any branches with her hands tied. Nonetheless, she backed toward the ledge until she felt the back of her legs press against it. She didn't realize it, but she'd already made her decision. They wouldn't make it for her.

Dante saw what she was doing and began to chuckle disturbingly. "If you'd rather fall to your death, I'm not choosey. I just need you dead. So hurry it up if you're going to jump." His words seemed distant and foggy, like the ground below.

Faces flashed across her mind's eye: a freckled, green-eyed youth with Harry's messy dark hair, highlighted in that intrepid Weasley red.

'_I love you Kyla_.'

"The messier the corpse, the more fear sent into the hearts of our enemies," Dante snarled insanely.

She had stepped up, first her right foot, then the left. She was balancing on the ledge.

Another face. Similar green-eyes peering down at her, arms wrapped protectively around her, enveloping her in love.

'_Harry, I'm sorry I couldn't stop them…_'

Dante would cause her death no matter what, but she could at least take the choice out of his hands.

"I know! We'll compromise," he growled nastily, that voice a surreal echo in her ears. "I'll shoot you off and you can have your painful impact."

Two tears slipped from her lashes and cooled her checks where they dragged. '_I won't let another of your spells touch me as long as I'm still alive_,' she silently swore.

He leveled his wand at her. At the same time, her knees bent, preparing to fling herself off. She never thought she'd be so ready to kill herself. There was a calmness in her head now – a silence in her world. Or was it numbness?

When he shouted his curse it sounded like two distant voices speaking at once. As she launched off of the ledge, her stomach clenching when she felt only air supporting her, the last thing she saw before screwing her eyes tightly shut was the image of Dante set suddenly aglow and falling forward.

With no time or care to wonder what had just happened, Ginny plummeted.

5

"NO!"

Harry leapt over the fallen black figure that was Dante and ran to the ledge that Ginny had just disappeared over. He fell to his knees and his horrified eyes searched the fog. He couldn't see the ground and the ringing in his ears was drowning out any noise that might have reached him from below. He suddenly couldn't breathe.

Something inside of him froze – iced over. Something close to terror. Something that made him go numb. Something worse than shock.

There was nothing in the fog. Nothing.

There was only silence and stillness.

The chill crept in, solidifying to suffocate him.

Jules had stunned the remaining Optimates and tied and gagged him with another flick of her wand.

Dante stirred and his hood shifted as his head turned against the rough rooftop. Jules placed a shoe against the side of his face and bent to snatch his wand from his hand. Pointing his wand at him with hers so he could see, she spoke.

"What have you done, Howard?"

"Only what needed to be done, Darling," he replied, laughter in his deep voice.

Harry was back on his feet and had turned to face them, his face blank. His eyes were dark voids.

The other Blood Traitors had already swiftly mounted the ledge and were all prepared for anything. Logan and Gus guarded the rooftop door incase any new Neos decided to check on their leader and comrade. They others awaited Jules's command.

"What have you done with them," Jules said calmly. "I won't ask again."

"I got the most use out of each of them," explained Dante. "I couldn't very well let such valuable prisoners go to waste."

"_So help me, Howard_! I may not be able to kill you, but I will make you wish I had."

Dante chuckled unsettlingly before answering. "Very well, Dearest. I sent Mr. Drake off to a play date, the young woman to her new room, and while I had hoped to send Mrs. Potter to her grave, it seems she took care of the work all by herself."

Jules's head whirled around to look at Harry. He only stared back. Something transpired wordlessly between them, then Jules slowly turned her attention back to Dante.

"I want passwords."

"They change every week at my whim, you know," Dante told her proudly, as if he were relating to her how a child had taken its first steps. "I think you'll find this week's set very familiar."

Jules hesitated to think about his hint. "How familiar?"

"Well, Darling," the grin in his voice was obvious, "I believe _you'd_ feel right at home."

Jules pressed her soul harder into his temple until he uttered a grunt of discomfort. "If you're playing one of your little tricks – I swear, blackmail or no, I'll kill you in your sleep."

"It's a good thing I never sleep then, hmm?"

Disgust contorted Culver's face and she zapped Dante with a spell that reminded Harry strongly of the stunning curse Roman had set on him.

"That won't last long," she muttered. She whirled toward the BT and they watched her, ready. She focused on the werewolves. "Logan, take Syd and Celeste back to the ground. I want the Neos inside to stay inside – we can't have them getting back-up. And if you hear someone coming, let us know. Everyone else is coming inside with me."

As the three werewolves moved to climb back down Harry's rope and the Vampires, Ferris, and Gus gathered at the door, Julissa looked back at Harry.

"I'm not sure what you're planning on doing, Mr. Potter," she said watching him closely. "But Alton and Agape are still in trouble. We could use your help."

Harry didn't speak, merely nodding in acknowledgement to the fact. He was biting his tongue for now. He did draw up a length of chain and shackle Dante tightly to the roof, however. He didn't know why the stunning curse wouldn't last long if it was the one he thought it was, but the chains would keep Dante busy for a long time at least.

As Jules ripped the door open, going inside with the Blood Traitors at her heels, Harry looked back at the ledge he'd seen his wife jump off of. He forced himself to look away. Dispassionately, he conjured a Patronus and sent the silvery stag off to the Ministry. It would take a while, but it was still quicker than sending an owl – which he didn't have anyway.

He turned and went inside after the Blood Traitors. Now it was time to really get down to business, and Harry was on edge. The iciness inside of him was growing, encasing parts of him that were dangerous to cover: like mercy…

But there was still a chance. If he was right, and he desperately hoped he was, he would be able to hold himself together. The chill wouldn't take over just yet.

6

It was strange, Agape thought, that she had wept so much as they dragged her to her doom, but once they had set her down and left her in the bare white room, she'd been able to stop. Acceptance calmed her. She probably wouldn't be able to get out of this, but she knew that didn't give her a reason not to try.

True she was alone now; no Harry, or the Blood Traitors to help her, but they had all tried so hard to protect her. That persistence shouldn't be rewarded with apathy on her part. She would do exactly what Alton had shouted at her to do:

She would fight.

She would fight to escape, and then she'd save Ginny and Alton.

Even if they did manage to mutate her into something unnatural, she would live to spite them. Alton had lived, and he'd gotten away with help from Jules and Roman. She could survive too.

Agape surveyed her enclosure. It was all white – the floor, the walls, the ceiling – and it must have been lit by some invisible spell because there was no torch or electrical light source. The ceiling was tall, but she only had about four feet by five feet of floor space. There was no door to be found, but she faced the direction where they had set her down. She decided to stand and wait, rather than sit. She'd have a better chance of loosening her bonds if she could straighten her arms out behind her back anyway.

It wasn't long, however, before her cell was open again. There was no door, much less a knob to turn, so she was a little surprised when the wall she was facing simply vanished before her eyes.

There was an Optimus standing just outside the cell, one hand holding a hypo and the other his wand. His eyes were blank as he looked her over. There were two more men behind him, no doubt to hold her still if she struggled, which she had every intention of doing.

He seemed to have already made that hypothesis just by looking at her crouched stance and steely glare, so he nodded to his comrades to take care of her.

Agape couldn't use her hands, and she was afraid if she kicked them they'd just catch her legs and have a better way of holding her down. She resorted to letting them get just so far before spitting the nearest one in the eye. He balked in surprise and put a hand to his eye to wipe away her saliva as his partner lunged forward. The frantic woman lunged too, butting him in the head. The result was him falling back slightly, and her left seeing swirling stars.

They both stretched their hands toward her to grab her shoulders, but she managed to shock them again as she started screaming in the highest pitch possible, as loudly as possible. They jerked away and winced. Her voice went pretty high and the echo inside the cell was enough to burst an eardrum.

Agape thrashed about, only stopping her relentless shriek to take breath for the next one. Surely they would stun her soon. But they never did.

One of them seized a handful of her long hair and wrenched her toward himself. She used the momentum to sink her teeth deep into the man's trapezius muscle just beside his neck. She didn't let go and eventually tasted blood through the fabric of his robes. He shouted and cried out for the other thug to help him out.

"Don't just bloody stand there! _Get her off_!"

The other man lifted his wand behind Agape's back, but the one holding the syringe yelled:

"Don't stun her! She has to be aware when the test is done – otherwise it won't work! Any magic could counteract the experiment."

"_Ahhhhhggg! Get her off_!"

Agape felt one hand forcing her shoulder back, loosening her bite hold. Then she saw the second fleshy appendage coming for her throat out of the corner of her eye. She immediately let got of the first Optimus and bit into the hand of the other, right on the meaty place between his thumb and forefinger. He cried out in terrible pain. Agape was afraid she might retch if any more blood seeped into her mouth, but she had to hang on.

An explosion of pain splintered through her right cheekbone. She couldn't see anymore – or if she could, her brain was too rattled to process what had just happened. She lost control of the muscles in her legs and her knees buckled.

"That's enough," said the Optimus in charge. "Don't hit her again, or we'll have to wait until she's regained her senses."

From the floor she could hear the other two panting and cursing her as they shuffled around her fallen form. For the second time that night she felt two very strong grips on her shoulders and she was held against the smoothness of the ivory floor beneath her. The hit to her head had jarred her so badly that she couldn't quite figure out how she should struggle and ended up only kicking her legs around.

She screwed up her eyes and yelled some more but without the vigor of before. The stars started to clear slightly, but the thoughts wouldn't reconnect in the right way. Just as she'd started to recover a little, a new pain erupted in her head.

She never even felt the hypo enter her skin in the shallow valley at the base of her scull.

A searing feeling spread viciously through her skull. It literally blinded her. She couldn't see. Shocked, she stopped thrashing and concentrated on what was happening to her. It steadily swelled, filling her head and she couldn't stand it. The pain was too great.

The burning scorched her skull, her face, her eyes.

Oh, her eyes!

She screamed and barely managed to suck in dusty breaths from the floor tiles. The Optimates had let go of her, had even left the cell, but she never knew. She was so overwhelmed she didn't realize she had curled into a defensive ball. There was only the inferno exploding inside of her.

Blossoming into agonizing waves, the fire swallowed her up.

More screams, more pain. The heat focused on her eyes. It was burning her eyes!

Fire. Pain. Fire.

Her eyes burning, going to burst.

White hot. Only white light.

One last scream shattered the air around her and unconsciousness finally released her.

7

"COME ON, YOU LITTLE-"

Fero dove at him from the air. Alton dodged him, but backed into Enyo's metal armored punch. Thankfully, she missed his head but he heard something in his right shoulder pop. Gritting his teeth in pain, he jerked his elbow backward into her chest. He shouted furiously at his own stupidity when the maneuver resulted in hitting more metal since Enyo had moved her shield from her arms to her sternum. At least it took his mind off of his injured shoulder.

At least he had taken out Tiburon momentarily. The burly man lay on his back a few yards away with the evidence of a purpling bruise on his temple. Alton had smacked his face into the floor pretty hard, but the bloke seemed invincible. He'd probably be ready to go again in a few minutes. The other two were trickier to handle: Enyo kept on encasing her face and head in metal before he could clout her, and Fero only got close enough to slap the smaller man around some before soaring off to turn around and do it again. It was very difficult to keep an eye on all three of them.

He realized how much he missed his wand. The only bright side to this sick training session was that his enemies didn't have wands either. It was all about their physical abilities – a test for them of some sort. A test which Alton was dead set on making them fail. The only problem was that he hadn't had enough time to let his own "abilities" kick in.

Fero's shadow hovered over his head and Alton looked up just in time to be clapped by those leathery wings. He made a furious snatch for one of them, hoping to pull so hard he would tear a hole in that tough but thin fiber. The wings suddenly lifted away from him and he was surprised by the feeling of smooth, cool fingers wrapping around his throat from behind. Enyo had managed to sneak up on him for the second time. He struggled against her, but she was crushing his windpipe very efficiently.

Naturally Fero chose this time to dive at him again. If bat-boy didn't decapitate him, Enyo would ring his neck. Or Fero would just collide into them and make an Alton patty. That would make it all the easier for Tiburon to unhinge his jaw and swallow him whole.

Alton decided he wasn't going to let any of those things happen – not with ten years of martial arts training under his belt he wasn't.

He'd figured out by now that Enyo could only shield so many parts of her body at a time, not the whole thing. So he lunged into a roll and took Enyo with him, managing to turn his head to the side so that it wouldn't smash into the floor. Surprised by the sudden propulsion forward, she didn't have enough time to move the shield again. Her grip slackened as her skull hit the concrete, making a noise like a melon being dropped on a rock. He wrenched out of her grasp and scramble to his feet.

Fero, who'd passed them over as to not get into a tangled pile up, now turned back to fly straight at him, his hideous wings flattening out horizontally to keep up the glide.

"That's right, you tosser," Alton shouted at him. "Come on!"

Alton knew this was his chance. He had to get pretty worked up before he could actually force the powers to obey his command, but he was certainly worked up now.

Taking several breaths, each one deeper than the last, he felt the heat build up in the center of his chest. One last lung-ripping inhale and he blew it all out, pushing hard with his diaphragm.

An enormous burst of flames erupted from his mouth. Dragon Lungs indeed.

Fero balked and flapped his wings backwards to stop himself, but he couldn't keep from passing over Alton, straight into the flames. He was yelling and clutching at his scorched chest. Alton grimly watched him careen toward the floor. It looked like he might pull up in time, but the extra air passing over his simmering pants made them burst into flame. In a panic he crashed into the cement.

Alton stood in the middle of the three prostrate bodies – Fero beating out the fire on his jeans with Tiburon and Enyo still unconscious – suddenly the small man grinned mischievously. Maybe this wouldn't be as difficult as he'd thought.

Of course, that would be the moment that Tiburon decided to get up. The huge Optimus was about six feet and three inches tall, so he loomed over Alton, who was all of five feet, five inches.

They faced each other. Tiburon's jaw stretched grotesquely while smoke drifted from Alton's nostrils and between his teeth toward the ceiling.

Round two.

_(Thanks for the chapter title, Lulgijak! You're the best editor ever!)_


	11. Chapter 11 The Good, the Bad, the Aurors

Chapter Eleven

The Good, the Bad, and the Aurors

1

As Ginny fell, wind blew her hair into her face and her robes flapped wildly around her body. Her eyes were clamped shut; it was bad enough to _feel_ the night blustering past without watching it.

The cradle of air rushing by her seemed to be thickening. She vaguely recalled that things supposedly slowed down just before death, but she'd never taken it to be literal. It was as if friction were halting her progress where there should be not resistance.

Then, quite abruptly, she stopped.

"_Buona sera, Signora_ Potter," said a pleasant voice. "What perfect timing you have."

Ginny's eyes flew open wide and she found herself surrounded by mist in the arms of a breathtakingly attractive man with dark hair and eyes.

Heaven? No, it was too dark and surreal here to be anything like that. The fact that she had been rescued by a beautiful Italian man was pure coincidence.

"Luciano?" she asked, amazed that his name came to her so quickly.

"_Buon_. I see you keep up with things," he replied with a dazzling smile as he set her on her feet. She still hung onto his arm for support because her knees felt as if they would give out. He was looking up at the roof where several flashes of light could be seen through the fog.

"Thank you," Ginny said when she had finally recovered slightly. "You must not be as bad as your file says."

He grinned at her, saying, "Hardly anyone is."

"No, I suppose not."

"Can I tempt you with some structural sabotage?" he asked, the way a gentleman would ask a lady friend if she would like another glass of wine.

Ginny blinked at him. "Uh…" She glanced at the brick wall looming over them. "How?"

"Well, I'm forced to stay out of sight," he explained, "so I've become very good at causing distractions – demolition included."

"But, if you're here – "

"Yes, the other Blood Traitors are here as well," he told her. "And so is your husband. We'll wait until they are safely out of the building before we bring it down, of course."

"Okay, what do I need to do?"

"First, we need to get your wand back."

2

"We should split up," Harry said flatly to the Blood Traitors.

They stood in a long white hallway, the yawning mouth of the fire shoot behind them and a black-barred window at the other end. The walls were blank other than that. The door they had just left from the roof had disappeared as soon as it closed.

Julissa nodded. "Gus, you and Imogene and Yvette find the basement. I'm sure that's where Alton will be. Dante said he'd sent him off to play, so look for an arena of some kind."

Some of the BT were looking at her and the Auror oddly, and finally someone stated the obvious:

"There are no doors," Yvette pointed out with a raised eyebrow. She gestured down the hallway's blank walls.

"_Gwendolyn_," Jules said in a commanding voice.

Suddenly, half a dozen doors materialized on the white walls, four on the left and two on the right.

"I know the doors will change positions, only Dante can figure them out properly. So make sure to mark each one you've already gone through if you end up back in the hallway," the woman instructed, then added quickly: "Watch out for the guards. No doubt, he's hidden them well."

"How do you know all of this?" Harry inquired, frowning.

"I know Dante very well," she answered. "Far better than I ever wanted."

"What if we need another password?" Gus said, his hands twitching a little out of nerves.

"He's using my name this week, apparently. Any variation or combination could work for you. And he may start changing them as soon as he wakes up, so be quick."

Harry wondered how many aliases this girl had. Obviously she had enough to control nearly every password in the building. Having that many names seemed ridiculous to him, but Gus nodded and took the Vampires down the hall to the last door, making a slash on it with his wand.

"How could Dante change them?" Harry said, voicing his next thought. "You have his wand."

Jules whirled on the nearest door, made a slash, and wrenched it open before answering. "This place does what he says, with or without his wand."

Harry and Ferris followed her into some sort of office. They were all ready for any attack that might show up unexpectedly.

No one was inside, however. It was a normal looking study, with a dark stained desk and a chair facing it. Then, Harry realized the chair had leather straps hanging lifelessly over the arm rests and from the back support. No one came in here merely to sit and have a calm chat.

"Dante's office?" Ferris asked, peering sideways at Jules.

She was looking down at a letter sitting open on the desktop. "Yes," she answered finally. "It must be. Which, is perfect really."

"Why's that?" said Harry. "No one is in here."

"No, but we should be able to get anywhere in the building through here," she explained. "At least, we should if he has it set up like he does at home."

"What do you know about his home?" Harry asked incredulously.

But the young blonde ignored his outburst and walked past him to the door they had just come through. "Her new room…" she said thoughtfully. It was what Dante had said before about where he had put Agape. Then, Jules made a command: "_Dungeons_."

Nothing happened.

"_Cells_."

Still nothing happened.

"_Laboratory_," Ferris offered instead.

Jules and Harry looked at him, but quickly turned back to the door as it swung open and revealed another white hallway, this one very lengthy and curving.

Jules tossed a grateful smile over her shoulder at Ferris. The expression softened her features tremendously, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. In the next moment, they were moving down the new hall, Harry in the lead.

At first glance, the tiny cells didn't seem to have doors. It became obvious, however, that they were like the Viewing Box, where only the observer could see through them. Anyone on the inside would only see four walls. After passing cell number twenty – the hall never seemed to end – Harry started to loose hope.

"Jules!" Ferris cried suddenly. He had passed them by a few steps and was at cell twenty-two. Harry bounded over to him and saw the still figure within.

"Agape!" he nearly shouted, putting a hand against the barrier. "How do we get inside?"

Jules didn't answer. She looked disconcerted.

"Could it be a password," Ferris offered. "One of your names?"

Jules started ticking off names. There were quite a few.

"Gwendolyn, Julissa, Jules, Culver, Rae…"

There list went on, but Harry wasn't listening. His mind was racing, trying to come up with something – _anything_. Then, it clicked.

"You were involved with the Optimates at one point?" he demanded of the woman.

Jules's eyebrows raised and Ferris gave him a look close to reproachfulness.

"Yes – "

"They all have code names now right? What was yours?"

Something stirred behind her eyes, as if the thought haunted her. "Miss White," she replied numbly.

The hand that Harry had been pressing against the barrier suddenly had no support and entered the cell.

He moved to the floor beside Agape. She was in a fetal position. He touched her shoulders and received a violent reaction: Agape jerked away from him, throwing her hand in front of her face and uttering a short shriek of terror.

"Agape, it's alright," he said gently. It took everything inside of him to keep his anger at Dante from his voice. "It's Harry. We're going to get you out now."

Her face came up hopefully. "Harry?"

"It's alright, Agape," he muttered to her as he hooked an arm around her waist to lift her to her feet. She whimpered in pain, and he thought it was from the gruesome gash on her back, but she was covering her eyes with her palms.

"Wait," Ferris said, moving in front of Jules to get inside the cell. "We should see what they did to her first. Who knows what Dante is up to."

"Ferris?" Agape whispered, trembling all over as Harry half supported her.

"Yeah," said the youth. "Jules and I came to help. Agape, what did they do to you?"

"My eyes," Agape moaned, nearly sobbing. "My eyes hurt so badly."

The three of them exchanged unsettled glances. Jules told Ferris to check it out.

"Can you open them?" he inquired.

Agape only replied by vigorously shaking her head.

"Please try, Agape," Ferris implored.

Trembling even harder, she gasped once to hold back a sob. Then, she pried her eyes open, cried out in agony and shut them again, unable to hold back tears any longer. Harry had caught a glimpse just like the other two, and he saw that the normally brown eyes had turned solid black. Even the white sclera had been taken over by darkness. It was as if her pupils had been dilated far past human or even animal capacity.

"The light, it burns," she told them weakly, "even when they're closed. Don't make me open them again…please."

Ferris was already drawing a bandage in the air with his wand. He turned it black to block more light and wrapped it around her head several times, thoroughly covering her eyes before tying it in the back. "How's that?" he asked her. "Any better?"

"Yes," Agape breathed with some relief. "Thank you, Ferris." But she suddenly gasped again and seized Harry's robes.

"Harry! They're going to kill Ginny! You have to save her – "

"I…I know," he said, feeling the chill rise in his chest again. "I – I don't…" He gave up trying, and turned the conversation back to her: "We need to get you out of here."

"What about Alton?"

Jules answered that one. "Gus, Imogene, and Yvette are working on it as we speak."

3

From the other side of the door, Gus, Yvette, and Imogene could hear a terrible commotion coming from inside the locked room. The sound echoed and seemed to move far distances, leading Augustus to conclude this was the arena Jules had spoken of.

"We've already used _Gwendolyn_, and _Dante_," Imogene was saying, referring to the passwords.

"_Julissa Culver_," Yvette said to the door with no results.

"What was that silly name that Ferris called her sometimes? She never uses it," said Gus.

"_Black Dove_?" Imogene supplied.

The arena remained closed to them.

There was a rumble from inside, resulting from either a very hard impact or a small explosion. Both were more than likely with Alton Drake inside.

"How about her entire name," Gus insisted, his brow furrowed; he was more eager than ever to get inside the door. "_Gwendolyn R. Dante_!"

Another booming vibration – he was almost positive it was an explosion – but the room remained impregnable.

There was a shout from inside that approached the door at a very quick speed. After an impact that made Gus flinch violently, a familiar voice cursed repeatedly in vehement shouts.

"That's it, you nasty little bugger! I'm gonna roast those wings and make you eat 'em with buffalo sauce!"

"Alton!" Gus cried, banging on the door. Judging by his shouts, their friend was just on the other side.

"Gus?" came Alton's hoarse voice, sounding confused.

"Alton, what's the password?" Gus shouted urgently.

There was a furious shout from inside and the sounds of a struggle. Alton was barely able to answer him over his fight:

"I'm not sure, Mate."

Another voice, most likely whoever he was fighting, demanded to know who he was talking to.

"Why don't you open the door and find out," Alton rasped at his opponent. It sounded like he was being strangled. They could hear more shuffling sounds and – was that flapping? The door shook on its hinges as something slammed into it and slid down it.

Gus became anxious when the sounds abruptly stopped. "Alton? Alton! Answer me!"

"Give me a bloody minute!" Gus was relieved to hear his voice instead of a Neo's. "I was nearly strangled to death for the fourth time tonight!"

"We can't figure out the password to the door," Imogene called, her voice as calm as ever.

"They're all one of Jules's names," he told them.

"Yes, but which one? We've tried them all," Gus explained.

"Try her new name."

"We did."

"The whole thing?"

Gus and the vampires exchanged glances. They knew what they had done wrong at the same time.

"What's the 'R' stand for, anyway?" Yvette inquired of them.

"Rae?" Gus guessed.

"_Gwendolyn Rae Dante_," Yvette shouted at the door. When it remained closed she started rattling off curses in French.

"No, that's her original middle name," Imogene insisted. "The new one is some ancient witch or something."

"This is so confusing!" Gus seethed. "How did she come by so many names in the first place?"

Alton was coughing badly inside. He was trying to say something to someone inside – something along the lines of: "Yeah, you would wake up now." Then there was a gasp and more struggling. "Hurry up!" he snarled at Gus and the women.

Gus's concern grew when he heard Alton's voice getting farther away from the door.

An animal hiss escaped Yvette's lips and she started slashing at the door with her nails, removing large chunks of wood in her rage. "_Zut! Porte merdique. Putain!_"

This would do no good of course; if tearing it to pieces were possible, Gus would have used a spell on it ages ago. The wood simply repaired itself as quickly as she could lash at it.

"Wait! Stop!" Imogene said, grabbing one of her sister's wrists. "He's yelling something."

Gus pressed his ear to the door and tried to make out what Atlon was shouting from the large room behind. His human ears couldn't decipher it, but Imogene's could.

"Rhiamon! He's saying _Rhiamon_!" she exclaimed triumphantly.

The door swung open and they rushed in.

It was an enormous cemented room containing four very bloody people. On the floor near the door was a young man with enormous wings. He was struggling to get up, but Gus shouted, "_Impedimenta_!" and he froze in place. There was no time to gawk at the massive, leathery obtrusions starting at the man's shoulder blades and ending in a crumpled spread on the floor. It would seem that Alton had broken one of the wings, because it hung at an unnatural angle – even for something that was unnatural on a human to begin with.

Gus tore his eyes away and looked for more of the mutated beings. He saw one advancing on two struggling figures in the center of the room. It was a large man, who's jaw stretched to an unimaginable length and width. Inside the horrific orifice were rows and rows of shark teeth. Gus raised his wand in protection as if the man were aiming for him.

Imogene rushed out of no where and gripped the man's throat from behind, spinning him around with her delicate hand. His mouth snapped shut in surprise and his eyes went wide.

"Sorry, my dear," said the vampire, showing off her lengthy canines, "but I'm afraid my teeth are even more dangerous than yours." She bit into his neck and he let out a shout filled with fright and pain.

Yvette had leapt onto the back of the woman who was repeatedly hitting Alton in the stomach with metal encased fists. Her weight knocked the woman down face first. Yvette's high pitched cackle sent a chill up Gus's spine and he winced as she bit into the mutant woman's neck from the side. The winged man was by far the luckiest of all three foes.

Alton sat dazed on the floor where he had fallen, watching them blankly. Blood was slowly seeping from his slightly parted lips.

Abruptly, Imogene let go of her victim, letting him fall to the floor, and stepped back holding a hand to her red lips. She looked down at the large man in horror.

"Ima?" Gus had never seen her look like that before. It took a lot to disgust a vampire.

Likewise, Yvette made a distasteful noise and shoved the woman away from her with repugnance. "How horrid!" she hissed.

Gus stunned the two Optimates before they could recover or get up again.

"There is something in their blood," Imogene muttered afterward, her voice echoing in the now silent arena. "It's like they're…"

"Inhuman?"

Gus and the two vampires looked with some surprise at Alton, who had gotten back to his feet. He was very bloody, and parts of his face were purpling with bruises (his nose in particular). Traces of soot were smudged around his mouth and cheeks. His breath was shallow and trembling, as if it were difficult for him to inhale properly. Blood dripped sluggishly from his left hand, the fingers of which were too slack to be in good shape.

Gus had never seen him beaten up this badly before. The Neos had really done a number on him. Then again, looking around, he realized Alton had been pretty hard on them as well. Enormous scorch marks covered the floor and three of the walls. At least six of those hideous shark teeth could be seen from where Gus stood, and all of the Optimates wore multiple swelling purple badges on their bodies and visages. Three against one and they had come out pretty even – of course, it had taken everything out of poor Alton.

"Alton, are you okay to walk?" Gus asked him, very concerned about his friend. He looked like he was in very much pain just standing.

Alton uttered an exhausted breath that was supposed to be a laugh. "S'pose we'll find out, huh?" He turned to the vampires, "Don't worry. They may taste bad, but I don't think their blood will make you sick or anything."

Swaying slightly, he looked at Yvette in particular. "Do you remember when you threatened to eat me when we first met?" he asked, grinning a little drunkenly. He'd obviously taken a few too many hits to the head.

"Now I know better, I suppose," she said grinning back.

"You're death threats are useless if you can't stand to drink mutated blood."

Her smile broadened slightly as she replied, "There are other ways to rid myself of you, _bien-aimé_."

Alt chuckled a little in return, but he was fading fast. His knees finally buckled out of fatigue and Yvette had to catch him. She supported his weight easily, hooking her left arm around his back and curling his right arm over her shoulders. He leaned his bleeding head against her white shoulder and fought to breathe around blood, soot and a severely bruised diaphragm.

"Let's get him out of here, quickly," Gus suggested. "He needs more than one of Ferris's fix-ups."

"What about Agape and Ginny," Alton mumbled.

"I'm really not sure yet, Alt," Gus told him. "But don't worry. I'm sure Mr. Potter and the others have gotten them by now."

4

"Luciano, Aurors can't even get in and out of a building that easily," Ginny commented, examining her reclaimed wand for damage. "You are far too good at this."

"I'm sure if every Auror had ten years of practice double-crossing the Optimates, they could do it better than I can," Roman replied, smirking slightly as they sneaked away from the hospital after making the foundations much less safe.

Without warning, a flash of light lit the fog around them and a hex zipped between them. Ginny whirled, shooting back, while Roman kept his face turned away from the building. He pulled her into a crouching position on the ground and hissed into her ear:

"Do you see the eyes, Mrs. Potter?"

Spells shot over their heads from the windows of the building, but she tore her attention away from them to give Luciano a bewildered look. "Eyes?" she whispered back.

He pointed behind her and she turned. Indeed, there were eyes in the fog. Crouching bodies moved among the trees, made visible only by the curses lighting the fog, but their eyes shown yellow and green even in darkness.

"Go toward them," Roman told her. Catching her uneasy expression, he added, "Don't worry, they're friends."

"What about you?" Ginny asked him. "Where are you going?"

He grinned charmingly. "To cause another distraction, of course. I'll join you in a moment."

Ginny left him and ran to the trees were the eyes waited for her while Luciano moved through the fog toward the nearest brick wall. Once among the trees, Ginny kept her head down as she looked around.

The gleams of light had diminished to a single pair. A small black werewolf sat next to an oak tree stump, tail wagging. Ginny approached the creature cautiously. The wolf hopped up once she was less than two yards away and closed the gap between them, head down with tail still waving. "Hello," Ginny said awkwardly – grateful the Blood Traitor werewolves obviously took their wolfsbane potion.

The small creature – small for a werewolf anyhow – suddenly perked her ears up and looked past the trees to the clearing where the hospital stood.

Ginny followed her gaze and saw a masked, hooded figure moving out of the building, still firing spells though the other Optimates had stopped. He shouted and fired in any direction he saw movement. A woman Optimus's ordered him to get back inside from a second story window. He ignored her.

Ginny crouched to stay out of his sight and wondered where Luciano had gone to. Surely he wouldn't start blowing the foundations now. No one was out of the building yet.

The idiot Optimates in the clearing was shouting challenges that were only answered by the commanding woman telling him shut up and get back to his post. He whirled around to yell back at her when the sound of new voices stopped him where he stood.

The other wolves had started to howl, joined shortly by their black comrade beside Ginny. It was an eerie sound that echoed in the trees. Ginny was in no danger, but she still felt a chill run trough her at the sound.

Then the little wolf bounded away, and Ginny was alone. She turned back to watch the now rather panicked looking man in the clearing. He was backing away from the trees in terror, firing random spells as some kind of threat to the forms making their way through the fog. They were stalking him.

"Get away from there!" Ginny heard the woman shriek from the window. "You want them to bite you?"

The fool wasn't listening. He kept on aiming spells at the bodies moving ever closer. After another minute, he paused. The eyes had disappeared in the mist, and so had the forms. The man stood still, his wand lowered slightly. The fog thickened around him. He took one step back, as if flinching away from something. Then they were upon him.

Three dark shapes pounced, knocking him on his back. Terrible sounds came from the pulsing mass of bodies; snarls and ripping, and cries of terror.

Ginny's eyes went wide, too shocked to react any other way. I t seemed the Optimates were experiencing the same horrified delay because none of them acted in time. One minute the man was getting mauled, and the next, one of the large animals was pulling him by the shoulder into the forest. Ginny put a hand to her mouth as the Neo was dragged into the woods, his head lulling limply in unconsciousness. A mask still covered his face, but his hood and robes had been lacerated by fangs and claws. Then he disappeared into the mist and darkness.

As several of the Optimates moved away from their windows – away from the monsters outside – Ginny took off toward the sounds of rustling leaves in the forest. Optimus or not, she couldn't just let the werewolves tear him to pieces. Wand out and ready, she saw the crouched figures through the trees and sprinted toward them. The beasts were bounding around their catch making pleased grunts and barks. She stopped abruptly, nearly slipping on the damp ground, when she saw the man gracefully pick himself up from the dirt and leaves. He chuckled as he pulled his Optimates mask away from his face.

"Good show, mates," Roman Luciano said to the three werewolves jumping excitedly around him. "If that didn't make them wet themselves, I don't know what could." There wasn't a single scratch on him, but his robes hung in shreds from his shoulders.

Ginny stood nearby, pausing for a moment to process what had just happened. Then she let out an exasperated sigh and glared at his satisfied smirk. "Good show, indeed," she said tartly as Roman repaired the rips in his robes. "I doubted your friends here for a moment. But the Neos certainly won't be leaving the building any time soon."

"Just like we wanted."

The wolves howled inharmoniously at the hospital. The loud sound bounced off of the trees and sounded like many more than a mere three voices. It would be enough to make even the gutsiest Optimus bolt the doors tight.

5

Harry opened the door at the end of the laboratory and found himself peering into the blank hallway. Still no guards had replaced the first two that the vampires had sent down the fire shoot. Where were they if they weren't here to watch over such a key area to the building? The less rational, more action oriented part of his brain told him to shut up and get a move on. The fact that there were no guards only helped them. He would be able to escape sooner to get Agape to safety. And find Ginny…

The thought of Ginny bore everything else out of his mind. He desperately wanted to get through this so he could go to her. He needed to take her away from here, no matter what had happened to her.

He led Agape out into the hall by the elbow, Ferris was at her other side and Jules followed as a guard. Yet again, Harry was impressed by her obvious knowledge in the field. She knew that they were particularly vulnerable with having to guide an essentially blind Agape. Judging by what he had observed tonight, had she been training to be an Auror she would already be past her second year and probably top of her class in field practices. Kingsley would probably offer her a job if she weren't anti-Ministry.

Harry no longer cared what she felt about Aurors or the whole Ministry lot, she was helping him save three people from the Optimates and that made them allies.

The blond woman put a slash on the door they came out of before letting it close. It morphed into a smooth surface to blend in with the rest of the wall. Jules's voice then rang through the hallway:

"_Gwendolyn_."

All of the doors reappeared and the three with marks on them were in different places than they had been last.

"Why do you have so many names?" Harry finally asked her.

"Like I told you, Mr. Potter," she said with no emotion, "legally I died. I needed a new name." She picked out a door and grabbed the handle.

"I don't see how you could possibly be the true Julissa Culver," Harry stated gruffly. "Her records said the body they found was genetically hers, and people don't just come back to life."

"You're right, and that part of me is indeed dead. If you want details you should go back to the roof and talk to Dante. I'm sure he'd be willing to tell you everything. After all, he's the reason for it all. My joining the Neos. My death. My names. My current life. It's all just a small part of his big plans."

"What kind of plans?"

"Insane ones, which I still don't know much about," she answered, knowing what he would ask next. She turned back to the door and swung it open.

"And what 'small part' are you playing, exactly?" he persisted.

"Allow me to answer that, Mr. Potter," came a cavernous voice from inside the door they had just opened.

They had found Dante's office again, as well as the hooded man himself.

Agape instinctively clutched Harry's arm tighter at the sound of that voice. Moving her behind his back, Harry aimed his wand at the space inside the void of the hood where a forehead should be. Jules and Ferris did the same, but neither of them seemed as surprised as he was. Culver hadn't been kidding when she said the stunning spell wouldn't last long.

"You see," Dante said, reclining in his office chair, but still seeming oddly stiff, "this woman calling herself Julissa Culver, is actually my wife. Gwendolyn Rhiamon Dante.

Harry gave Jules a side glance, but her hardened expression never changed. Ferris's visage was even angrier than hers.

"How did you get out of your chains without a wand?" Harry demanded.

The hood tilted his way slightly before Dante answered. "I'm known for my ability to escape problematic situations." He cocked his head back to Jules, saying, "Just like my darling beside you."

Harry noticed he never once acknowledged Ferris in any way.

"Apparently she couldn't escape marrying you," Harry commented.

The hooded figure uttered a rumbling sound that turned out to be a dangerous laugh.

"And she's never forgiven me for that. I suppose you think you have me cornered, Mr. Potter. Otherwise you wouldn't be so relaxed."

"You're very self assured, aren't you?"

"Well, I didn't get to this high position over night without talent, Sir."

Though chains hadn't worked so well last time, Harry shackled Dante's arms together with a spell. "I'm sure your mother is very proud," he told the man, taking a few steps closer and making a quick overview of the desk, searching for any surprises. Dante stood up slowly and Harry shouted at him to stay put.

"Don't think I won't blow you apart just because I work for the Ministry," he growled as he inched his wand closer and closer to Dante's shadowed face. The chill in his chest told him to hurt this man – to kill him for what he's already done and for what he would do if he lived. Ginny's tearful face flashed to mind. Harry tried to stay calm despite the rage working up inside of him.

"Dante – or whatever your real name is – you're under arrest –"

Suddenly Harry couldn't step forward. He couldn't even pick his feet up off of the floor. He looked up at Dante furiously. "How are you doing that?" he demanded.

There was no wand in Dante's hand but his hood turned a fraction. Harry followed where the black face pointed and saw Jules standing behind him, aiming two wands – hers and the one she had taken from Dante on the roof – directly at them. Her face was steely.

Ferris looked uncertainly at his leader. "Jules… What?"

"You have no idea how sorry I am about this, Mr. Potter," she said flatly. "But I cannot allow you to arrest him."

"What?" cried Harry, Agape, and Ferris in chorus.

That dangerous laugh echoed in the office again. "It seems even the most unfaithful wives still have some loyalties," said Dante. "Thank you, Gwendolyn."

The chains and shackles fell off of the large man's wrists as if they had suddenly stretched, and he pulled a hidden wand out of his sleeve. Pointing it at Ferris – finally acknowledging him – Dante commanded them to drop their wands.

For the first time that night, Harry saw fear spread over Jules's features. She glanced at Ferris uncertainly. Ferris glared at her and shook his head. He wasn't lowering his wand.

"You know that you have no choice, Love," Dante said to Julissa. "Drop our wands or I'll shoot him."

She dropped the wands and lowered her arms.

Dante's hood then watched Harry, waiting for him to comply, which he finally did, seeing no other way. He knew Dante wouldn't hesitate to kill any of them other than Jules.

Satisfied, Dante spoke to his wife, "My love, I know how difficult all of this is for you." With one flick of his wand Harry, Jules, and Agape were hurled against the wall and with another flick were swiftly chained to the spot.

"Yes. So difficult… Almost like having to stay collected while knowing that your wife has a _lover on the side_!" He shouted the last words irately, right as his wand flashed red.

Ferris crumpled to the floor.

"NO!" Jules screamed in horror. Harry's stomach clenched.

"Oh, yes, Darling," Dante continued, the calm voice of death fully returned. "Now perhaps you'll learn. Though I suppose I'd have to kill the Italian as well before you completely stopped being unfaithful. If you're good, maybe I won't tell the Optimates how he's been two-timing them. No doubt he was the one who lead you here."

"_You bastard_!" Jules screamed. Her cold, determined face was suddenly flushed with murderous rage. "I kept my promise! If it weren't for me, you'd be on your way to Azkaban!"

Harry was furious as well – furious at himself. He couldn't believe he'd let this girl lead him around all night. He had Dante in shackles and was about to get this screwed up situation under control at last, but his foolish trust in a nineteen-year-old vigilante had made everything more complicated. He should have taken the lead a long time ago – then maybe he and Agape wouldn't be pinned to a wall and his wife would be safe.

Dante's awful laugh rang out louder than ever, sending a chill up Harry's spine, and he advanced on the three prisoners.

"What do you purpose I do, Gwendolyn?" he said. "Let you all go? As if you would simply go home and never come back to my laboratory! You have to learn your lesson. You have trespassed into enemy lines – with an Auror no less! Don't you see? I must punish you because I love you, Darling. If I didn't you would never learn."

He had moved so close to her there was barely an inch between them. Dante was enormous compared to Jules, who was barely average height for a woman. He had to stoop to bring his face down to hers. Her eyes flashing dangerously, she thrashed violently against the chains to get at him, but to no avail. She was pinned too tightly to the wall. Dante's hood shadowed her face and he kissed her hard.

Jules thrashed more desperately, and uttered a muffled cry of disgust. Dante pulled away suddenly, a slender trail of saliva mingled with blood lingered briefly between their mouths – or rather Jules's mouth and the void of Dante's hood. Jules had bitten into his lip. Another rumble came from Dante, this time a growl of anger instead of amusement.

"That was a mistake, Gwendolyn," said Dante, his large shoulders crouching as if he were ready to pounce.

Jules strained as hard as she could against the chains, metal creaked against metal. She only gained an inch or two, but it was enough to bring her face closer to his.

"You will die, Dante," she hissed. "And I will be there, watching every moment."

"I know that will never happen, Darling," Dante answered, his voice rising with glee. "You won't let me die, because as soon as I do, your precious traitors will follow."

Jules looked ready to reply when, without warning, her icy eyes grew round. A shadow loomed over Dante from behind and his hood tilted upward in a questioning manner. Harry's eyes flew up and he sucked in a breath.

There was a deafening crash and Agape shrieked in terror.

6

"All those doors and this is our best way out?" Alton rasped. He was peering down the dark mouth of the fire shoot.

Yvette, who was still supporting him under one arm, tried to reassure him: "Don't worry Alton. It will be just like one of those kiddy slides on ze playground."

"I don't know about you, but I usually didn't go on the kiddy slide if I had internal bleeding."

"It's the quickest way out, Alt," Gus told him. "We have to get you out of here."

"What about…" Alton was interrupted by another coughing fit.

Gus frowned. Alton didn't have his mask to hold in the fire breaths and his coughs were getting steadily worse. The Ministry worker couldn't tell if it was good or bad that there was no smoke coming from the racking coughs.

"What about the others?" Alton finally choked out. More blood was on his lips than before. No smoke was definitely a bad thing.

"We need to get you out first," Gus said in a tone that was as close to commanding as he could muster.

"Then, we had better hurry," Imogene said, peering over her shoulder into the blank white hallway. "I hear someone coming."

Gus took hold of Alton. "Slide down, Yvette," he said to the girl. "I'll send him down once you're there to help him. We'll be right behind you. Find the werewolves."

The tall vampire obeyed immediately, gracefully sliding down the metal tube feet-first. Gus looked at his currently pallid friend.

"Are you ready?"

"They're here," Imogene announced calmly.

Alton swung his legs inside the tunnel with a grunt and nodded to Gus before letting himself slide down. Gus could hear him rasp, "Geronimo! _Ouch_!"

"Go now, Augustus," Ima ordered as one of the doors in the hall swung open.

"But –"

"GO!"

He had to dive down the shoot head-first to dodge a barrage of curses from the Optimates now flooding the hallway. Imogene had already started darting among the masked figures quicker than they could react.

7

Dante's large body lay crumpled on the floor, his desk broken on top of him. Papers and wands and books were scattered everywhere before Jules, Harry, and Agape. All three of them stared at the mess.

"Ferris –" Jules breathed.

Harry looked up and saw that the blond youth had risen from the floor and was standing, leaning against the wall for support and clutching his wand with an outstretched hand. He looked very dizzy, like he was ready to loose consciousness again. Harry was amazed that he had come out of a hex like that so quickly – Dante must not have done it properly.

Ferris didn't change position against the wall, but his wand twitched. The desk and Dante were slid as one away from the three prisoners and into a neighboring wall. Then Ferris moved forward.

Stumbling, he made it across the room to Jules and slumped to his knees at her feet. The hex was definitely still in effect on his equilibrium.

"Ferris!" said the girl, straining to get to him.

Harry saw the wand move in Ferris's hand again, and their chains fell from them, evaporating as they hit the floor. Then Jules was on her knees and wrapping her arms around her rescuer. Harry went to Agape, who seized his arm in a vice grip.

"Don't let go of me again, Harry," she commanded in a shaking voice.

"I'm sorry, Ferris," Jules was saying repeatedly, tears running down her face. "I'm so sorry."

Harry almost couldn't believe this was the same fearless woman who had coldly commanded the Blood Traitors all night. Previously, she had shown little emotion other than anger. Had she not betrayed him by saving Dante earlier, he would have felt badly about rushing her while she was upset:

"We need to get out of here," said the Auror. "Someone will have heard that crash. Here…"

He found his wand on the floor and touched it to the back of Ferris's skull. The kid would still be a little light headed, but his spell would counter act the hex enough to let him function better. He would need medical attention soon, though.

Jules looked up at him distractedly and nodded, some of the resolve returning to her face. She looked around for her wand and snatched it up, pausing briefly before picking up Dante's as well. "Come on, Ferris," she said, helping him up. "We have to get you out."

Harry was relieved to see that Ferris's legs were strong enough, he seemed to only lean on Jules for balance and direction. However, there was no guarantee how long his strength would last.

They opened the office door and rushed into the hallway. The previously sterile white space was now completely black. Harry almost pitched forward over something on the floor a few paces out of the office. Agape had stopped right before and ended up keeping him on his feet.

"Harry," she said tentatively.

Her tone told Harry she knew as well as he did that the thing was a body. It didn't occur to him how she had known the person was there before he did – at least not until he lit his wand.

Agape's hand flew over the tip of the wand to smother the light source. "Wait!" she gasped. "I just took the blindfold off. The light hurts."

"What's going on?" Jules demanded from behind them. "I thought we were leaving. We need to move quickly before the Neos find us in the dark."

Agape was the one to answer her: "Someone already found _them_."

By the tiny bit of light escaping his wand's tip through the woman's fingers, Harry could see that she had taken off her blindfold and was staring with black eyes at the floor. "Jules, are the werewolves inside?"

"No, they're waiting for us in the forest."

"The vampire's must have done this then," Agape concluded. "I'll close my eyes for a minute and you can see for yourselves."

She let go of Harry's wand and the light flooded over at least seven still figures sprawled on the floor or left propped against the walls. Blood was everywhere.

Furious, Harry whirled on Jules and Ferris. "This is what you do? You kill them all? That's how you bring them to justice?"

Jules was looking at the bodies dispassionately, unphased. "Justice is _your_ job, Mr. Potter. And they aren't dead."

"They could be! Or worse, the Optimates may have seven new Vampires to add to their roster!"

"Imogene and Yvette never take enough to change anyone into vampires," Jules snapped back impatiently. "They may cut them, but they know the consequences of turning humans –"

"Cut them? You mean like slitting their throats?" Harry snarled, remembering his own blood running out of his neck.

"Are we getting out of here or not?" Jules cried.

"Harry lets go – please!" Agape begged, covering the wand light again so she could open her eyes. "I can't stay in here any longer. Please."

He took a breath and turned away from Jules. He took Agape's arm and started to lead her around the bodies, but she stopped him.

"Keep you wand covered," she begged. "It's enough light for you to see by, and I'll be able to keep my eyes open."

"How well can you see in here?" he inquired, wondering exactly what kind of spell they had put on her.

"Better than I've ever been able to see before," she replied, now moving forward, leading him instead. "I just wish it was a better sight to see."

She took them to the fire shoot at the other end of the hall, saying, "This thing would be our best bet, I suppose. I saw it when they took me to the cells before…"

Harry nodded, and stopped. He had heard something – a distinct noise from inside the hallway.

"Harry?"

"Shhh! Close your eyes."

He pulled his hand back from the wand tip and shined it past Julissa and Ferris. Ferris was peering over his shoulder into the darkness, but Jules watched the beam of light closely. It should have been lighting the entire hallway at least somewhat – but it wasn't.

The beam seemed to die midway, lighting only half of the area. Even then, what it lit was dim.

Jules closed her eyes in dread and her brow nit.

The sound returned much louder this time. It wasn't one that a person hears often, but it was unmistakable nonetheless. A body was being dragged down the hall toward them.

"Agape," Jules said suddenly, a note of desperation in her voice, "take Ferris with you."

The order was understood. Agape opened her eyes enough to swiftly grab a protesting Ferris and haul him to the oculus in the wall. Harry helped her shove him fighting into the shoot. Then she followed.

Harry turned with Jules, mind set on taking down whatever was coming nearer whether she wanted him to or not.

The combined light of their wands was enough to see the vague outline of a tall hooded figure. The shadows seemed to bend toward him, always keeping his stalking form in darkness even as he approached the light. His silence magnified the sound of the body he was effortlessly dragging with his left hand. It was another burly, hooded man.

Harry was not sure what to think at this point. He knew they had left a critically injured Dante in his office, so who was this?

Jules cursed beside him. "Please, Mr. Potter – you can't arrest him."

"But I'm going to," he answered flatly.

"You don't understand. I can't let you. You can take everyone else, but not him."

"Sorry, Culver," Harry replied. Then he said to the Reaper-like form still advancing on them, "Stop there, Dante. If you get any closer I'll take you down the hard way."

He was just thinking that he should go ahead and take him down the hard way regardless, when Dante stopped. There was a fury in the building – a deadly menace being emanated by the man before them. The shadows swirled around him like mist spurred by the wind. Harry made a move to go forward, but hesitated when Dante shifted.

"I said stop, Dante," he warned, his wand trained on the man's broad chest.

Then he saw who was moving. Jules sucked in a sharp breath.

The limp figure Dante had been dragging had grabbed onto his hand and was pulling itself up. The shadows thickened as the figure was nearly straight enough to stand, but it could go no farther. It simply hung there, suffering silently as it clung to the shoulder of an intrepid, unsupportive Dante. With no warning, it collapsed, but not downward – _inward_. It had fallen into Dante's body as if immersed in a black pool.

Harry's mouth fell open. Had his eyes deceived him?

"Do you see now, Potter?"

It was Jules. She watched the now waiting Dante with narrowed eyes. "He is capable of literally being in two places at once. Like a clone that can be tucked back in. Now do you understand how I died?"

Realization hit Harry like a sock in the gut. This time, however, he recovered more quickly. It was time for action now, not questions. Dante had to be brought down.

Before another second could pass, Harry shot him with an immobilizing spell – not caring if it wouldn't hold him long. It would give him more time to act. The shadows started spinning wildly around them and Jules was diving toward Dante, her two wands outstretched. Harry moved toward him at the same time, just as the shadows rushed from the frozen Dante in a powerful gust. It forced Harry and Jules back and even made the nearest unconscious Neos slide away from him on the floor.

How? How could he be doing magic while he was frozen? This man could not be human!

The wind increased, pushing them into opposite walls, pressing the air out of their lungs. Using every muscle in his body, Harry managed to move his arm enough to point it at Dante's heart. A jet of gold jumped from its tip. The wind stopped immediately and the shadows stilled, Dante was left clutching his chest.

He must have been the first person in history to so quickly overcome a properly done immobilization spell. And he had done magic at the same time!

But worst of all – at least by Harry's standard – he still wasn't in shackles.

Harry and Jules leapt into action at the same time. As Harry and Dante began to duel, the blond woman disappeared behind Dante somewhere.

Even as they dueled the wind was picking back up. Harry could no longer find Julissa over Dante's shoulder, but his foe did not seem concerned with her being out of sight. Only the light from their wands lit the hallway and kept them from stumbling over bodies. Harry was the faster of the two, if only by a little, but Dante was very talented at blocking. However, Harry had fought more talent when he was fourteen. He was the more experienced one by far, and so long as he stayed close to his opponent the wind would not affect him much.

If he could keep Julissa from assisting Dante, he could throw him in Azkaban before morning. The only problem with keeping the young woman at bay was that he had no idea where she had gone.

But he did not have to wait long before she returned.

"_Lloyd!_"

Dante was in mid swing with his wand but when the name rang through the hallway he whirled rigidly toward the speaker. The wind stopped abruptly and Harry could see Julissa standing at the end of the hall in front of the barred window.

It was Harry's chance to stop him for good, and he was just raising his wand to do so when a cool hand slithered up his arm and held it in place. The grip was strong enough to quickly pull his wand arm behind his back where he could aim at nothing but the wall. At the same time another delicate hand seized his throat from behind. Claws dug into the sensitive skin of his neck as a voice breathed in his ear: "Do not interfere, Mr. Potter."

Dante was facing Jules, his shoulders hunched like a large cat ready to fight. "What did you say?" his deep voice snarled dangerously.

Harry would not let this happen. "Imogene, let me go, or I'll make you very sorry." Even with his wand pointed at the wall, he could do a fair amount of damage.

"First let me tell you what I saw out the window, Mr. Potter," replied the vampire, her nails still digging painfully into his neck.

Jules was talking to Dante: "There's hardly a better way to get your attention than to call you by your birth name, Howard. You know you'll always be Lloyd to me."

'_More names!_' Harry thought incredulously.

"STOP!" Dante shouted. "You should know better than to upset me like that, Gwendolyn. I'm busy."

"Are you listening, Harry?" Imogene whispered into his ear.

"Let go of me, you –"

Dante was turning back to deal with Harry, but again Jules cried, "_Lloyd!_" and he spun around, this time furiously advancing on her a few steps.

"SHUT UP!"

Jules watched him placidly. "Yes, that really does do the trick," she commented in a bored voice. "But I can think of an even better way to get your attention."

"What way is that?" Dante demanded impatiently.

Jules paused.

"I'll tell you whether you want to listen or not, dear," Imogene was saying, her face just beside Harry's. "When I passed the window just now, I saw a woman outside. A pretty, red-haired woman."

Harry stopped struggling immediately. His heart felt like it had stopped. "You saw Ginny?"

"I would assume it was her," replied the vampire. "And she seemed just fine." Relief swept through him, warming the chill in his chest, but she continued: "Though, like all of us, she's still in danger. So now, I believe you have a choice. You can go to your wife and take her away from here, or you can stay and capture Dante."

He let out the breath he had been holding and focused on Jules and Dante again.

Dante had grown more impatient. "Well, Gwen? What way? Do I need to hex it out of you?"

Jules's features turned to stone and she slowly lifted her chin before placing her wand just beneath, the tip pointing toward her head.

"What are you doing?"

"If you want to continue your duel, by all means go ahead," she told him. "But know that if you do, I won't hesitate to blast my own skull. I know you wouldn't want that, Howard, but I'm sure you've noticed that sometimes _I_ do."

"You wouldn't," Dante hissed.

"I will. The only thing in question here is will you let me die? I'll give you a moment to decide. Three…"

"I will not let that Auror out of my laboratory alive! You want me to let him go?"

"Yes," she snapped. "Or let me die."

"Gwendolyn…"

"Two…"

"Harry. What do you choose?"

"Gwendolyn!"

"Take me to Ginny."

"One."

The wand flashed. Jules hit the floor and Harry dove into the fire shoot with Imogene at his heals.

8

"Where are they?" Yvette muttered impatiently.

The Blood Traitors, Ginny and Agape were all gathered together just inside the first layer of trees that skirted the old hospital. They were watching for any sign of their leaders from inside. Roman and Yvette stood in between the three werewolves, vigilantly watching the darkened windows. Ginny was holding Agape in a comforting embrace as she silently wept. Alton sat on the ground, propped against a tree trunk, while Ferris sat to one side mending as many of his injuries as he could. Gus was on his knees at Alt's other side, doing what he could to help Ferris work – Ferris was still dizzy and unbalanced.

"Ferris," Alton rasped as he held back another cough. Ferris looked up from repairing the snapped tendons on his left hand – he had just pulled a shark tooth out of the bloody flesh there. "Don't – Don't let me die before I see Payton," Alton told him.

The seriousness in his voice unnerved the two men leaning over him.

"Don't be so dramatic, Alt," Ferris replied. "You're not going to die. You'll see her again."

"Your expression says otherwise," Alton said, his voice barely more than a hiss of air. He had a lung injury from a cracked rib, compliments of Enyo's metal fists.

Ferris sighed and shook his head. "I promise you're not going to die, mate," he assured his friend. "I just can't concentrate. My head…" he trailed off and went back to work on reconnecting the tendons in Alton's hand.

"We have to get him to St. Mungo's," Gus insisted for possibly the tenth time. He had pushed Alton's shirt up to look at his abdomen and Ferris could see that the bruises had grown and merged into a large purple blotch.

Ferris's jaw clenched, but he didn't respond to Gus's comment as he continued to work.

A noise of frustration came from Yvette. "Where are they?" she snapped again.

"Maybe Jules felt she was better off on the Optimates' side after all," Ferris muttered bitterly.

Roman's head snapped in his direction.

"What are you talking about, Ferris?" Gus inquired.

"He doesn't know what he's talking about," Roman answered instead.

"But of course _you_ do," Ferris snarled back. "You always seem to know more than the rest of us. Especially about Jules! I watched her save Dante in there!"

Roman faced him fully now. His poker face was on, but he was obviously irritated. "You don't understand."

Ferris shot to his feet and was directly in front of the taller man in two strides. "Then, enlighten me, Roman! Why would she do that?"

"To save us, you idiot" Roman said hotly. Ferris started to reply, but all of his swift movements had caught up to his head and he swayed dangerously. Roman seized his shirt to hold him on his feet while he talked to him. "You're supposed to be smart. Couldn't you figure it out? Dante knows everything about us! Why do you think he hasn't killed us all yet? If Dante dies, or goes to prison the Optimates get all of our information. Then we die. That's why she keeps him safe. Enlightened yet?"

Ferris was clinging to Roman's forearms to hold himself steady, but glaring at the Italian with nothing but antipathy. "How do you know that, and I don't?"

"Because I was there when Dante struck the deal," Roman explained, calmer now. "She was never supposed to tell any of you. It's his version of a joke. He wants you to think she's betraying you."

Ferris looked deflated and dizzy. He shook Roman off of him and stumbled back to Alton.

Everyone was quiet now and watching Roman and Ferris warily.

"What does it mean for Jules, now that we know?" asked Gus, a deep frown on his face.

"Nothing good," Roman told him grimly.

There was a pregnant pause, then one of the werewolves whined and three tails started wagging. "Hey, fellows," said Yvette, "they're finally back. Can we leave now?"

Everyone's eyes flew to where the vampire was pointing. Harry and Imogene were crossing the clearing to where they waited. Ginny stood up and saw her husband. No sooner had he seen her than she was in his arms kissing him. Tears slipped down her cheeks and she buried her face against his shoulder. He spoke relieved words against her hair, but she couldn't hear – she didn't need to. He was alright and so was she, which was all she needed.

He pulled back slightly and turned her face up to his. "I was afraid you were… thought you were…"

She quickly leaned up and kissed him. "I'm fine. It's okay, I'm fine."

"Ginny." He held her tighter.

While Harry and Ginny were having their reunion, Imogene had walked up to Roman. She stood very close to him with her hand on his shoulder and murmured: "Julissa knows you're planning something."

"Where is she?" he replied, just as quietly.

"Inside, but she said not to worry. She wants you to go through with whatever you're going to do"

"You're sure?"

"_I'm_ not, but that's exactly what she told me."

"Ima, if she's still inside –"

All three wolves started to growl and whine, each of them staring into the forest behind them. Everyone's head came up. Yvette took a closer look and suddenly hissed, "_Le Ministère!_"

"Merlin's beard, I can see them too!" Agape exclaimed, her black eyes wide with surprise.

"Roman, get out of here," Gus said suddenly. "If they find you, they'll arrest you!"

"I walked around their headquarters days ago, Gus," Roman answered calmly. "None of them recognize me. Besides, I'm not done yet."

"Don't get so cocky, Luciano," Harry spoke up. "I'm one of them, and I _do_ know who you are."

"Harry," said Ginny.

"I told you he was a bast– " Ferris cupped a hand over Alton's mouth to cut off his last word.

Shouts could be heard as the Ministry spotted them all grouped together. The men and women spread out, nearly surrounding them, their wands raised.

"None of you move," Tonk's voice ordered from within the crowd. More Aurors were heading in the opposite direction to scout for more people.

"Harry! Please!"

It was Agape, and she rushed over to him and Ginny. "Please," she begged, grabbing his arm. "You can't let them get arrested. They saved Ginny and me."

"Luciano is a known criminal, Drake assaulted an Auror – "

"Darn right, I did!"

"–And I just saw the teenager who leads them prevent Dante's arrest _twice_," Harry argued. "Don't get me started on the vampire!"

"We owe them our lives!" Agape insisted. "Roman saved me from the Optimates and took me to their safe house. Then Alton risked his safety to get me home, and now he could be bleeding to death. Please, Harry!"

He frowned at her, uncertain of what he should do. The Blood Traitors were much like a very young version of the Order. The Order had had its share of people with unsavory reputations too – after all, Sirius was the first ever to break out of Azkaban. How could he fault Roman? Still, they were inexperienced in comparison and that made them dangerous. They didn't have someone like Dumbledore to lead them.

"Harry?" said Tonks, spotting him for the first time. She moved forward past the Blood Traitors.

"Harry," Agape said, imploring him with her altered eyes.

"She's right, Harry," Ginny agreed.

He sighed and looked up at Tonks, who raised her eyebrows at him expectantly. "What's going on? Who are these people?"

"These people… These people saved my wife and Agape from the Optimates. Some of them need medical assistance."

"Is there anyone inside the building?"

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Four explosions blasted out the four corners of the hospital's foundation, making the ground shake beneath their feet. Everyone jumped or ducked away from the sudden commotion – Luciano was the only one who didn't flinch. He calmly turned his head toward the collapsing building, as if only mildly interested in it.

Ginny grimaced and shrugged slightly when Harry gave her a questioning look.

"Tonks," yelled one of the Aurors – it was Betts, the Scottish woman who had been on the scene after the attack in Schuler Library – "What you want us to do?"

"Stand down," Tonks instructed. "We need to get these people to St. Mungo's."

"The werewolves too?"

"Mr. Potter," said Imogene from beside Betts, "that may be a problem."

Harry frowned at her and looked around at the other Blood Traitors. Many of them were now wanted by the Ministry. If they were identified, they would be arrested. He owed them too much to let that happen.

"Tonks," he began, letting go of his wife for the first time, "can I talk to you for a moment." He led Tonks a little ways away from the group and talked to her in quiet tones.

Tonks looked at him several times during their conversation, each time her expression ranged from shock to irritation. When Harry had explained everything, they turned back to the crowd.

"Say," Betts was saying as she gave Imogene a peculiar look. "Has anyone ever told ye, ye sound jus' like tha' recorded voice inae Ministry?"

Imogene regarded the Auror soberly and replied: "That recording _is_ my voice. They have been using it to announce the departments since 1901. Apparently people didn't like to hear the Minister's voice telling them what floor they were on all day."

Despite being distracted with more important thoughts, Harry couldn't help but mentally smack his forehead when he heard this. '_No wonder she sounded so familiar!_' he thought. '_I_ _hear her voice everyday. I can't believe I never realized it_.'

He was brought back to more serious matters when Tonks started giving orders: "Alright, listen up! I want Neely, Betts, Jenkins, and Makesh to stay here. Everyone else, get over to that building and start searching for Neos. Any who are found are to be immediately unmasked and arrested. You know where to take the wounded."

The Aurors did as instructed, and she turned to the four people still waiting for orders. "Alright mates," she said, "I picked you to stay because we've got a situation here and you can keep your mouths shut. I want Neely and Jenkins to take the blond man and the red-head to St. Mungo's. You will take them to your own personal beds, no names, no questions asked. If the faculty gives you trouble, make sure they understand that it's none of their business. Betts and Makesh will take Agape and Ginny with them and make certain they're well taken care of. Harry, I'll have to keep you behind for a little longer." She added under her breath, "and maybe you can explain to me why I'm doing all of this."

"The rest of you can go home," Harry told the other Blood Traitors who were unharmed. "I'll be getting in touch to go over a few things." There was a warning in his voice that they all understood and they nodded.

"And, thank you," he added, "for everything."

_(Oh my gosh, you guys! This chapter was huge! It took me over a month to finish the darn thing - well, really it was because I started college and I have no more "me-time" - but don't stop reading yet! I have one more chapter to go and it's not that long, so it shouldn't take me forever to finish it. Then I'll start on the sequal!)_


	12. Chapter 12 Christmas

Chapter Twelve

Christmas

1

Snowflakes drifted lazily downward to merge with the thickening sheet of white that covered the graveyard. It was the day of Christmas Eve and the gated yard was quiet, with a sole visitor. A young man with dark hair and a crooked nose stood before one of the newer headstones, peering at it with sober mismatched (on blue and the other blue-green) eyes. His hands were buried deep inside the pockets of his long tan trench coat that looked liked it belonged more on a cowboy than some funny looking British kid with a slight pot-belly. The jacket was open a little over his chest, revealing the tiffany blue t-shirt beneath that read: _PRINCESS_. The shirt was obviously meant for a girl, but this particular character wore it because of the scandalized reactions he got from people – especially in the magical world.

His strange joke had certainly gotten a few good reactions out of a gaggle of old ladies he'd passed on the way to the graveyard. They harrumphed and muttered amongst themselves before scurrying away from him. '_Hey, at least they'll have something to talk about over Christmas dinner that didn't involve prunes or indigestion_,' he figured with a goofy grin.

However, at the moment, Remy's thoughts had turned to more subdued things. The smooth headstone gleamed under the rays of the afternoon sun behind him. He read the legend it bore for possibly the twentieth time since her death – or was it the thirtieth.

**Julissa R. Culver**

6 January, 1998 – 28 July, 2016

Our darling can finally rest at last

His friend, Jules lay six feet below him. When he thought about that for a moment, he took a step to the right instead of standing directly in front of the grave marker.

"Sorry," Remy muttered to the stone as if it were really her lifting one of her warning eyebrows at him. "To think, I've been stepping on you all of this time," he joked, grinning shortly.

Pausing for a moment, he cleared his throat.

"I, uh… I know you said flowers were for pansies – and I spent my last paycheck on the bill from two months ago anyway – so I picked you some nice, free, abrasive holly. You know, for Christmas and all." He stooped and deposited the little cluster of holly branches tied together by a rubber band. The tiny red berries against the sharp green leaves gave off a distinctly Christmas feel lying in the snow.

"Holly, suits you," he continued. "It's pretty, but tough. Holly hasn't made me bleed as many times, though."

He remembered something and his silly, crooked grin was back. "Oh, yeah," he said, "I've decided to purpose to Antonia! She'll probably just laugh her head off at me when I ask, but maybe she'll say yes. Can't you just see our poor kids? They're all gonna have funky teeth and curly red froes!" He laughed out loud at the mental image. "I'm going to wait until she graduates, though. Her Mum would tear into me if I distracted her before her N.E.W.T.s are done."

There was another pause, this one longer; as if he wasn't sure he should say what he was thinking.

Finally, he said, "Y-you won't believe who came into the shop a week before last: Lenore's dad and Harry Potter. They were looking for this hot woman that works for Potter. She's okay now," he added, as if the tombstone had frowned in concern, "they found her not too long after. But Potter acted like a real git while he was there. He said he saw you at some murder scene. I kicked the tosser out, just so you know. I told him not to talk about you like that and sent him on his way… then I crapped myself and hid in the back for the rest of the day. Mr. Hawkins wasn't happy, but at least he didn't fire me. Antonia didn't believe me when I told her I stood up to Potter." He ended with a nervous little laugh.

"Well, I should go back – Mum'll be mad if I'm not back in time with the cranberry sauce. I just wanted to talk to you and say Happy Christmas. I'll visit again soon…"

He trailed off and turned around, heading for the cemetery gate. He left and started walking down the hill path in the direction he had come from. Glancing back from about halfway down the slope, he stopped dead. His eyes widened and his jaw fell open.

Standing among the headstones, right were Julissa's grave would be, was a slender woman wearing pure white robes. Remy sucked in a breath and watched as the very familiar looking woman stooped to pick up the holly. Her head bent over it and pale, curly locks fell around her face.

It was Jules. She wasn't wearing the dark gothic attire he always remembered her in, nor her old dredlocks. She was a purer, rawer Jules that wasn't hidden beneath layers of teenage symbology, but it was her.

"Merlin's Beard," Remy whispered, a little frightened.

There was no way she could have heard him from such a distance, but she suddenly looked up, looked at him. He felt the blood drain from his face when the familiar eyes locked on him. He took a step toward the cemetery and hesitated.

Remy only blinked once, but when he opened his eyes, she had gone. Breathing heavily, he searched the area with his eyes, but she wasn't there.

Refusing to believe he'd imagined her, he ran back to the gate and flung it open, dodging headstones until he reached Julissa's space. He froze before it, the frigid air burning his lungs as he sucked in great gasps of it. The holly was still on the ground, where he'd left it. Had it moved at all? It didn't matter because there was no denying the disturbance in the snow. Even if his shirt did say _PRINCESS_, his shoes certainly hadn't made those high heel prints in the snow. The tracks had come from the forest behind the graveyard, and had stopped just were he'd seen her standing.

He looked around wildly, as if she might still be close by. Nobody came into view. She had gone. Poor Remy was shaken to the core, and he could do nothing but gape at the forest in trembling disbelief.

2

"SYD! ALTON! TREVOR! Mel says dinner is almost ready! Come help!" Celeste Haywood shouted up the staircase of the Snook residence.

When she turned back down the hall, Alton Drake was coming out of the nearest doorway.

"You know, Celeste," Alton said, wrapping an arm around the plump Muggle woman's shoulders, "I love that dulcet voice of yours, but do you have to be so loud?"

"Of course," she replied with a sly grin. "How else would I complete my image of an incurable lunatic? Covering myself in flower just isn't a good enough sign these days." She gestured to her face and Rudolph sweater which were indeed coated with a substantial layer of white powder.

"All you need is a big red mouth and squeaky ball on your nose," Alton suggested. "Then scream your head off at us. It would be the stuff horror movies are made of."

"You have to get me a clown outfit first," she retorted.

"I think I can arrange that."

They entered the kitchen where Melencolia Snook and a woman with very short black hair wearing a man's sweater were finishing up dinner. Alton swooped over to the dark haired woman and kissed her sweetly.

"Happy Christmas, Payton," he said. There was barely an inch between their faces.

Payton smiled and used her hands to reply to him in sign language.

He laughed, saying, "I know we're not under mistletoe. Would that stop _you_?"

She grinned mischievously and kissed him back.

Sydney and Trevor arrived and were immediately put to work setting the large dining table. Melencolia levitated several platters of food into the dining room after them.

"Celeste, dear," said the old woman, "could you tell Kermit to get in here, please. If he starts walking now maybe he'll make it to the table before we start."

Celeste giggled and stepped out into the hall again. "MR. SNOOK! DINNER!"

Old man Snook shouted something back, but she didn't listen. The front door had just opened and Roman came in – the attractive Italian thoroughly distracted her.

Sydney darted over to him from the dinning room before he could even close the door behind him. "Happy Christmas, Roman!" she cried, jumping into his arms.

"_Buon Natale_!" he replied, laughing at the girl's enthusiasm.

In the blink of an eye, Yvette was there as well with her flirtatious, "_Joyeux Noël_, Roman."

"_Joyeux Noël_, Yvette," Roman replied. They kissed each other's cheeks over the top of Sydney's head.

Celeste rolled her eyes at the fact that French and Italian sounded that much sexier just because it had come out of his mouth. He came toward the kitchen and greeted her in turn.

"Happy Christmas, Celeste," he said. She couldn't hold back her faint blush when he kissed her as well.

However when he came toward Payton, Alton spoke up. "Oy! You keep those foreign lips off of my bird!" he jokingly warned his friend. "Who knows how many people you kissed before you got here. You were probably grabbing women off the street for a casual Holiday snog."

Payton just grinned and rolled her eyes as Roman laughed and the two men shook hands.

"Roman, I should have known you'd distract all the women in my kitchen," Mrs. Snook said dryly when she noticed the large crowd of females around him. "Be useful or find a seat at the table."

He smirked at her and used his wand to levitate the last of the food into the dining room. "Don't you have a house elf to help you with all of this," he asked.

"I gave her two weeks off for Christmas," Mrs. Snook replied matter-of-factly.

"I told her it was a great idea," Celeste chimed in. "Now I can help make two home-cooked meals with my two families."

The sound of an old man's voice could be heard from the dining room, barking at someone for nothing in particular.

"Sounds like Kermit made it in time," Mrs. Snook commented with a hint of a smile on her normally straight face.

"Well, I'm not getting anywhere near him," Alton commented. "He's hit me with that bloody cane four times today! I _just_ got rid of my bruises, and I can't brag about an old man giving me more."

"Ferris and Jules are here," Trevor called from the dining room.

"Hey! That was almost using your outside voice, Trev," Syndey teased the soft-spoken boy. "Good job!"

Everyone was just starting to sit down at the table when Imogene entered with Gus and Logan on her heals. "I finally managed to find our good Ministry worker and gentle werewolf," she said. "Can you imagine their bosses making them work late on Christmas Eve?"

So, with the last three arrived, they all settled around the table. They passed the wine to those of age and toasted to their fourteen member family, and to the families some of them would not be able to see that Christmas.

3

At the Potter residence, another group had gathered. Friends and family were conversing and eating nonstop inside the house, greeting each other, catching up, joking, asking Harry and Ginny about their jobs, and giving Kyla more attention than she could ever want. Ginny had stopped the poor girl from sneaking off to her room several times.

If Harry had been the one to noticed her creeping up the stairs, she would have had sanctuary an hour ago. Currently Hermione and Neville were on the couch with her talking about Hogwarts. Ginny and Ron were listening to Tonks tell an animated story about a cheeky medi-wizard at St. Mungo's. Over near the big Christmas tree, Remus's wife, Tundra, was smiling wryly at something George Weasley had said – at least Harry was pretty sure it was George, as Fred was supposed to be on a vacation with his wife. Three of the Hollyhead Harpies were reliving their last game via swoops of their hands and batting gestures. Several people were still getting food from the plates in the kitchen, but everyone was gathered in these little groupings. There were no strangers here.

Remus and Agape stood on either side of Harry in front of the lit fireplace.

"You really think you'd like to be and Auror, Agape," Remus asked Harry's assistant. "Not that you wouldn't be phenomenal, I only mean it's a big decision."

Agape smiled and brushed a bit of her long hair out of her face. "There's no way I'm going to let Harry do all of the fighting after everything that happened."

Harry had still not gotten used to the change in her eyes recently. The medi-wizards and a few specialists from the Department of Experimental Magic had been able to reverse some of the effects of Dante's injection on her sight. The whites of her eyes were back to normal, and she could tolerate most lights other than direct sunlight, but her pupils were perpetually larger than normal. The color of her irises had changed to an irreversible black brown color as well. She hadn't taken it too badly, except when she had to remember to bring sunglasses everywhere. She had also complained of headaches for a while, but those too seemed to have subsided.

"I think you'll do very well as an Auror," Remus told her. "And now you have some practice under your belt."

"I'll say," Harry agreed. "Aren't you glad you worked for the most hazardous Auror in the department?" he asked Agape.

"So all of that paper work was just part of taking me under your wing, right?" she teased.

Harry chuckled. "All the writing was to strengthen your wand hand."

"But, you're right, Remus," Agape said. "Because I did so much with Harry, Kingsley said I could skip the first few classes once I start."

"Then you'll be in the same class as my son, Quinlan" said Remus, his voice plainly full of pride.

Agape asked Remus about his daughter, Quinlan's twin Lenore. While they continued to talk, Harry noticed Kyla had slipped away from Hermione and Neville as the two friends reminisced. He excused himself and walked into the kitchen where he'd seen his daughter disappear.

Kya was standing next to the counter, reaching up to get to the sugar cookies on the second shelf. Several large platters stacked with food on the edge of the counter were keeping her from getting close enough.

"Feeling antisocial?" he asked.

Startled to find him there, she jumped. "Oh. Kind of, yeah," she answered then turned back to the shelf.

"Here," said Harry, getting a cookie for her, "you little runt."

"Who's fault is that?" she countered with a grin, plucking the cookie from his fingers.

"Are you alright tonight?" he inquired, more serious now.

Kyla took a bite of her cookie and sighed as she looked at the people on the other side of the doorway. "I'm fine," she said after swallowing. "It's just that after everything that happened recently, I guess I kind of wanted you and Mum to myself this Christmas."

Harry gave her half a smile. "I know what you mean. But your Mum had been planning for so long, and she didn't want to cancel it." He threw his arm around her small shoulders and pulled her to his side. "Besides, they'll all leave tonight and we'll have Christmas morning together."

"Yeah," Kyla replied, trailing off. She seemed to remind herself of something then: "It was interesting talking to Aunt Hermione for a while, but then she and Professor Longbottom started talking about how the school governors need to pay more attention to some class I can't remember."

Harry uttered a short laugh. "Please don't tell me it's Defense Against the Dark Arts. That class was always a problem when I was at Hogwarts. Neville is the first person in a long time to hold the Defense position for more than a year."

"I don't know what class they were talking about," she admitted. "I drifted off pretty quickly." She looked at him sideways then. "Would you tell Mum if I went to my room?"

He stooped and kissed her on the forehead before answering: "No. Go ahead."

She gratefully kissed him back and left the kitchen. The last he saw of her that night she was slinking up the stairs while Ginny's back was turned.

Later, once all of the guests and family had left, Ginny stood in front of their bathroom mirror taking off her jewelry and letting down her glossy red hair. Harry had already collapsed on the bed, face first, and was listening while his wife told him about Ron trying to convince her to manage the Chudley Cannons instead of the Harpies. She was quiet for a few minutes and he could hear her changing into her night gown. Then she called his attention.

"Harry, are you awake?" she said in an amused but slightly annoyed tone.

His answer was muffled by the pillow, but clearly a "yes."

"Good. Then, sit up for a second."

She crossed from the bathroom to the bed and sat down as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I want to give you something," she said, moving closer to kiss him.

When their lips parted, he said with a grin, "You have my full attention."

She beamed and turned her torso to reach for the nightstand drawer. He laid his head against her shoulder while she pulled something out of the drawer and held it between them so he could see. It was some sort of file.

"What's this?" he said, taking the unexpected item while he put his glasses back on so he could see it.

"I went to St. Mungo's yesterday while you were at work," Ginny told him. "These are my blood tests."

He opened the file and peered at the single page inside. When he saw the results he quickly looked up at his wife.

"I'm pregnant!" she affirmed.

His look of shock melted away to joy and he grabbed his wife in a passionate kiss. Nothing else needed to be said.

_(The End! Thanks for reading! I'll probably make a sequal!)_


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